


With Golden String

by ABirdWithoutFeathers



Series: DNF Disney princess AUs [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Panic, I dont even ship dnf why did i write this, I stole so many lines from "sun", M/M, Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Prince Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Self Confidence Issues, Tangled AU, Title from a Sleeping At Last Song, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, budget mother gothel, i cant stop listening to tangled songs, i couldn't not include tommy and tubbo, im making up world building stuff as I go, is she an OC? i dunno, its a fairy tale au of course theres a happy ending, its only teen and up cause Tommy can't stop swearing, mother gothel is her own warning, sapnaps a lizard LMAO, theif!George, tommy is stabbin shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABirdWithoutFeathers/pseuds/ABirdWithoutFeathers
Summary: The Tangled AU no one asked forGeorge is being hunted by half of the kingdoms and is banished from the other half. On the run from the capital guards, two crazy teens, and carrying the most precious item the royal family owned, George finds himself unconscious in a closet.Dream has lived in the tower his whole life and longs to touch the grass and feel the sea. What he wants most is to see the strange and beautiful lights that appear only on his birthday. The opportunity presents itself when his tower is broken into by a wanted criminal.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: DNF Disney princess AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135145
Comments: 75
Kudos: 496





	1. Act one

**Author's Note:**

> I really hate myself for writing this.

“Oi bitch!” Tommy called after him. George didn’t turn back. 

“Go faster you stupid horse,” He urged. The white mare below him looked up at him as if she was just now realizing he was on her back. The horse stopped in her tracks. George kicked her side. 

“Move! Mush!” George screamed at it. He heard the angry voices of Tommy and Tubbo behind him. The satchel around his body with the crown inside suddenly felt much heavier. 

“Oh, Gogy!” Tommy called. 

“How dare you steal what we’ve rightfully stolen!” Tubbo screamed in indignation.  _ Maybe I should have just killed them instead of running.  _ George gave the horse one last kick before realizing it wasn’t going to be moving. He practically jumped off the mare in an attempt to get away from the two teens. They called themselves the Stabbington Brothers (he was pretty sure they weren’t brothers or had ever stabbed anyone), while it made George burst out laughing when he first heard it, they had a good reputation for thievery. The three of them working together had successfully made it away from the capital without getting captured. If he was being honest, the teens were more a threat to one another than any of the palace guards. 

“Where’s bitchboy?” The voice was too close for comfort. George had (in his brilliance) cornered himself.  _ Fuck.  _ His eyes ran frantically around the cove. Looking for something,  _ anything  _ to use. A river, some rocks, various plants, then he saw it. Vines hung over the rocks and covered a good portion of the wall. If he squinted, he could see that behind them instead of gray rock there was a depression in the wall. Maybe enough to hide him  _ Worth a shot,  _ he thought as he ran through the vines. 

“I’m gonna start stabbin’ shit,” He heard Tommy say as he ran into the cove. “I’ve got a knife bitch!” 

“Tommy we clearly went the wrong way,” Tubbo insisted. George held his breath. No way he was actually going to get away with this. 

“I saw him go into here! I swear!”

“He probably juked you-”

“The only one who jukes me is me-” The boys descended into bickering as they left the cove. George let out a quiet sigh of relief. His shoulders let go of the tension he didn't know he had. George took a moment to look at his surroundings. He was in a tunnel of sorts, with vines covering both ends.  _ But where does it lead,  _ he wondered. His curiosity got the better of him and he walked to the other end. Cautiously he pushed aside the greenery and felt the wind get knocked out of him. 

It was a  _ beautiful _ landscape, the kind only seen in paintings. A waterfall cascaded down the cliffside into a quaint little lake that the sun hit just right to make it sparkle. Flowers bloomed along the bank in brilliant shades of blue. The star attraction of the cove was a tower that pierced the sky made of sandstone bricks and with an ugly yellow roof. A thin trail led up to the base of the tower, just wide enough for a man to walk comfortably. George reached into the satchel and pressed the crown into his palm. Still there. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a faint voice. His immediate instinct was to hide from the Stabbington Brothers, but the voice sounded higher than either of them.  _ It’s coming from the tower,  _ he realized. And, was that  _ singing?  _ George almost laughed, he was going crazy from hanging out with the two idiots he had just ditched. It was very nice though. George found himself at the base of the tower. 

_ Maybe they’ll let me stay the night _ , he reasoned. It  _ was  _ getting late. George started to climb the tower.  _ Besides, I need a place to hide for a while.  _ Tommy and Tubbo weren’t the only ones after him. His hands dug roughly into the bricks and the singing got louder.  _ She has a beautiful voice,  _ George realized and suddenly his face felt hot.  _ Nope, nope, not the time for that.  _ If he started to get flustered, his hands would get sweaty, and if that happened he would most  _ certainly  _ fall. He tried to focus on the siren’s song as he got closer and closer to the top. George reached his hand out to the windowsill and pulled himself up. 

He collapsed onto the stone floor with exhaustion. His breaths were shallow and quick. He didn’t notice the singing stopped. George got himself to his feet and unslung the satchel. 

“Alone at last,” he grinned as he opened it. Then the world went black. 

* * *

Dream was trying his hardest to not scream. There was a  _ man _ in  _ his  _ tower. And worst of all, he was  _ cute.  _

_ Wait what the fuck?  _ He realized his thoughts and instantly dropped the unconscious man. The brunette let out a quiet groan on the floor and Dream had to pinch himself to stop him from bursting out into laughter. 

“Sorry,” he whispered quietly. Dream picked him back up and made his way to his emptied out wardrobe. The man was surprisingly light. And short. And really thin. Dream half wanted to shove him back out the window from where he came and half wanted to force-feed the poor man a sandwich. Dream shoved him into the wardrobe and forced the doors closed. He pushed a chair underneath the handles to ensure he wouldn’t be getting out. He leaned against it and sighed. This was the most stressful thing he had done all year, it wasn’t every day someone broke into your house and you had to knock them out with an axe. 

A glint of light caught Dream’s eye from across the floor.  _ He had a bag,  _ he realized. It would be rude to go through it, but hey, it was also rude to shove someone in a closet to use as proof to your mother that you could handle yourself. Dream walked over and picked up the satchel, running his hands over the leather before opening the flap. He took the object out of the bag and examined it. It was metal and adorned with jewels. _A very_ _ fancy object for a not so fancy man,  _ he thought. 

“Sapnap!” he called out. The chameleon came trotting out from his hole in the wall. “What am I looking at here?” Dream rotated it, turned it upside down, bent it, and tried to press on the jewels, but nothing happened. Sapnap made sure to lick it a few times and still, nothing.  _ Maybe, it’s a weapon or a decoration? Or a strange necklace,  _ he reasoned. He tried to slide it over his head only to get it stuck just before his forehead. 

Something clicked in that one passing moment, where everything felt right, for just a second, the world had aligned itself and everything was as it should be. The object on his head filled some hole deep,  _ deep  _ within him that he didn’t know was there. But before he could explore that feeling, it passed as quickly as it came. 

“That’s weird as hell,” He mumbled and put it back into the bag. Dream shoved the bag under one of his loose floorboards. Then he realized that would be the first place his mother would check. When he was just a kid he used to hide his dinner there for later.  _ God, I was a stupid kid,  _ he thought and pulled it back out. Dream ran up to his bedroom and moved aside one of his canvases on the wall. There was a small depression in the stone that he normally used for his best paints, but he moved them aside to put in the bag. Somehow he felt like whatever it was in the bag was more important than some paint. 

Dream ran back down the stairs. He weaved in between his half-made candles, half-built sculptures, and other unfinished projects. He ran up to the closet and… stopped. Suddenly the weight of what he was doing crashed down on him at once. There was a  _ man  _ in his  _ house _ in his  _ closet.  _ The smart thing to do would have been to push him back out of the window. But he didn’t, because surely his mom would be proud of him. He grinned at the thought. It had nothing to do with his feathery hair or the huge grin on his face when he opened that bag. Nothing to do with his porcelain skin-

“Stop!” He said out loud. “Nope! Nope, nope, nope,” One step at a time, get out of the tower first, deal with whatever  _ that  _ was later. Dream walked away from the closet entirely and went back to work on one of his face masks. 

  
  


Dinner that evening with his mom was rather uneventful. Beforehand he had sung to her and let her run her hands through his hair as usual. Later on they had squash and venison for dinner. Not a very pleasant combination but it was food nonetheless. His mother said that there was a famine crossing the land and good food would be harder to find. Dream didn’t mind, as long as he got to see her. Once his mom had left for three weeks after a particularly heated argument. There was plenty of food and water for him to live off of, but that didn’t stop the painful loneliness from creeping in. 

After dinner Dream led her by the hand to the closet. He insisted that he could prove to her that he was capable of handling himself, that he didn’t need to stay here, that he didn’t need  _ her _ . At that, he bit his lip. She definitely wasn’t pleased with him after that. He finished the night with a red mark across his face and some quiet painting. His mother left the tower in a huff and he went silently to bed. 

  
  


The next morning, the man in his closet woke up before he did. Dream woke up to the lovely sound of a high pitched yelp followed shortly by his wardrobe falling over. He rushed out of his bedroom and flew down the stairs only to be greeted by the wardrobe lying flat on its doors. 

“Hello?” A muffled voice called from inside. 

“Good morning,” He immediately cringed.  _ Oh yes, I hope you are having a lovely morning, face first on the ground trapped in my wardrobe.  _

“Why am I not dead?”

“Uh,” Dream fumbled around his words. “Well, it’s a rather long story,” 

“I’d love to hear it as soon as I get out of here,” 

“Who says I’m going to let you out?” Dream challenged. 

“I mean, I could just sit here for the rest of my life. Said life would last about three days before I die of thirst. If you wanted to kill me you would have done it already,” The man pointed out. Dream sighed and started to reconsider throwing him out the window as he easily pushed the cabinet back up against the wall. 

“I’ll be right back,” Dream insisted and put the chair back up against the handles. He ran back to the brick fireplace for his axe, the only thing resembling a weapon around the house. Sure, the man  _ seemed  _ nice enough, but his mother would say those were the worst ones. Dream made his way back to the closet and almost opened it. Almost. His breath picked up. The man was beautiful, there was nothing wrong with admitting that, but what was Dream?

He had long hair, nothing like the knights in his books. He was absurdly tall and his face and arms were covered in freckles. His mother's words came rushing back to him.  _ Immature, clumsy. Chubby,  _ she had said while clapping his check. He had stopped eating for a week after that comment, at least until his mother noticed and practically forced food down his throat. Dream’s chest felt like someone had tied a rope around it and was tugging, tugging down and tugging hard.  _ I’m drowning,  _ he thought and slumped against the closet.  _ I’m drowning.  _ He could see the surface of the water drift farther away and the darkness met his feet and swallowed him whole. He heard the muffled voice of the man in his closet. It was swallowed by the waves.

Dream moved over to his mirror shakily and looked upon himself with sorrow. His body was too lanky and awkward, his nose too crooked, his face and body littered with freckles. And worst of all, his face.  _ Chubby.  _ It wasn’t nearly as bad as when he had heard that, he had made sure to work out as much as he could after that. But it wasn’t enough. His mother put up with it because she loved him. She was the only one though. Dream thought back to the perfect, porcelain man still in his wardrobe.  _ I could never be like that,  _ he realized.  _ Never Dream, but maybe I can pretend.  _

Dream raced up his stairs back to his project corner. Candles, drawings, half played chess games against Sapnap, and his mask making. Dream opened his box of finished masks and flipped through them. A green one, a light blue one, and then he saw it. 

It was the simplest and the oldest. He hadn’t made the actual mask, he had no clue how to make porcelain in his tower, but his mother had brought it home for him. Almost like a coloring sheet, ‘child’s first mask’ or something like that. A quarter of the country supposedly wore masks of some sort, even the king from across the sea wore a pig mask according to his mother. 

He was supposed to color it, paint it, anything. Instead, Dream had added a simple smile and left it at that. Dream used to run around the house with it on his face pretending that he was a knight from one of his stories, a king with a magic sword, sometimes just a village boy with a dream. A man with a beautiful girl or a pretty boy living and loving together by the water. Just pretending to be someone better. Someone,  _ anyone _ else. 

Anyone else that would deserve to be loved. 

Dream found some thick golden string to hold the mask firmly against his face. He could see out of it quite well much to his surprise. It was kid-sized and revealed his chin, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Hopefully, it wouldn’t seem too weird to the man still trapped in his closet. 

_ Why do I give a shit about what he thinks?  _ Dream thought as he slid on the railing down his stairs. He pushed off the balustrade and vaulted himself towards the wardrobe. Dream grasped the axe in his hand and carefully removed the chair. 

* * *

The doors opened slowly, then came rushing open once they realized they were free. George fell face-first onto the ground without time to catch himself. He let out a painful groan as he brought himself to his feet. George brushed the dust off of his arms then looked up at his warden.  _ Oh.  _

If George was being perfectly honest with himself, he expected a girl. The singing he heard was high and light, the man in front of him was… well, definitely high. The man towered above him wearing a gross yellow tunic and plain trousers. He wore a simple smile mask, so simple in fact it could have been drawn on by a child. His golden hair was tied tight back into a bun. The concerning part was the axe he held at his side. This was not the figure he was expecting based on the awkward voice from inside the cabinet. 

The man cleared his throat. “Hi,”

“Hello?” George said it more like a question. They stood there in silence as they both tried to process this. “Do you often put people in closets?”

“Do you often sneak into people’s homes?”

“Fair enough,” George admitted. 

“Don’t move,” the man ordered.   
“I wasn’t-” the man pushed the head of the axe to his face, then to his mouth. _He’s going to cut my tongue out_. The man lightly pushed up his upper lip revealing his teeth. 

“Huh,” The man said quietly. “I already searched you for weapons, I just had to make sure-”  _ Oh fuck.  _

“Where’s my satchel?” George asked and his eyes ran frantically across the room. 

“I took it,” The man admitted. “It’s quite a fancy prize for a not so fancy man,”  _ He knows,  _ he practically screamed. 

“I can be fancy,” George grumbled. 

“Do you want it back?”

“Yes, it’s actually something very important to me. If you would give it to me, I’ll be gone forever, I swear it,” George promised. 

“Let me show you something…” The man grabbed his arm and led him up a set of stairs and towards a balcony overlooking the foyer. “Stay here,” He ordered. 

“The only other place for me to go is out the window,” George muttered. The man flew down the stairs and over to a set of golden ropes attached to a huge curtain. His fingers worked quickly to untangle them and pull down hard. The curtain flung itself to the side on his command and revealed what he could only describe as a mural. 

A massive painting covered the whole wall, a painting that must have taken  _ days _ . It depicted someone wearing an ugly yellow sitting alone on the treetops, gazing at lights in the sky. He could feel the hope and warmth that must have gone into the painting. It was in every brushstroke, every line, and it seeped from the colors passionately. It was breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Do you know what these are?” The man asked. George looked at him inquisitively. “The lights, they come once a year,  _ only  _ once a year. They aren’t stars, I’ve checked every book in my library and none have talked about anything like this. They come on the night of my birthday and then they disappear for another year. Now, this is where you come in,” George could hear the man grin as he rushed up the stairs. 

“I want you to take me to see them,” George pushed away from the balustrade. 

“Are you crazy? I can’t take you to the capital!”  _ I’m wanted in half of the kingdoms, going into the capital would be a death wish.  _

“Well, I suppose I can just keep your satchel. And your golden prize inside,”

“I can tell you everything I know about them,” George offered. The man nodded. 

“That's a start, go on,” George took a quick breath. 

“Well, you’re right, they aren’t stars, they’re lanterns,” That piqued the man’s interests. “The king and queen have the whole city release them to celebrate the lost prince’s birthday, supposedly he was killed in the crib ages ago. The royals still think he’s alive for some reason and host the sun festival every year to remember him. I guess the lanterns are supposed to lead him home for the dead or something? I don’t really know a lot, I wasn’t raised in the city,” George hastily explained. “Can’t you see them well enough from here?”

“I can barely see them, that’s why I thought they were stars,” The man said condescendingly. 

“Look, I can’t take you to the capital, I really can’t,”

“You mean you won’t, what’s such a problem with the capital that you won’t risk it to get your satchel back?”

“It’s… it’s hard to explain-”

“Well if you don’t care I could break it,” The man said as if he was talking to an errant child about their toy. 

“What!?! Are you insane?!?” _That crown is worth an_ absurd _amount you absolute moron._

“It would be easy enough to smash with my axe, all of those pretty jewels scattered across the ground. I could smash those too,”

“Okay! Okay fine, I’ll be your god damn tour guide,” George conceded. He could feel the man smile under the mask. He dropped the axe and held out a freckled hand. 

“I’m Dream,” George took the hand and shook it. 

“George,”


	2. Act two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cameos, the movie  
> Also, Dream and George are there too but who really cares?  
> /j

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // panic attacks, minor alcohol use

“Are you _sure_ you know what you’re doing?” George called out to him from below. _No,_ Dream thought. 

“Of course I do,” He insisted confidently. Dream tightened the gold string on his mask one more time and took a quick glance at George. The tower had never seemed as tall as it did today. The ground never seemed so far away, so elusive and surreal. 

“It’s fine if you can’t, we can always-”

“I’m coming down! Shut up!” He yelled back. Dream looked at the rope again and wrapped his gloved hands around it. _As long as I don’t let go, I’ll be fine,_ he assured himself. 

“Don’t look down!” George shouted. _Don’t look down, don’t look down,_ he thought as he looked down. 

“I hate you so much,” he mumbled with his eyes closed. “Let’s hope this wasn’t a terrible idea,” He stepped to the edge of the windowsill and jumped. Well, it was more of a careful step but he’d like to think it was a jump. Air rushed up into his face pushing the loose strands of his hair to point to the sky and the ground grew closer to his face a lot faster than he would have liked it. Dream gripped harder onto the rope and gritted his teeth. 

He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes until he heard George’s rapidly approaching laugh and clenched the rope to keep from breaking his legs. Dream slowly opened his eyes and saw the ground, only a foot or so away from him. He blinked a few times. It was sharper than he thought it would be. There were so _many_ individual blades. 

“You can touch it you know,” George said from his right. Dream shot him a look. 

“I know that I’m just… preparing myself,” He explained. 

“Do you want some help?” George offered. Dream just shook his head. He had to do this himself. Carefully he unclenched the rope and dropped to the ground. _It’s squishy,_ he thought. _Huh._ Dream found himself grinning and a laugh broke out of his chest. He knelt down and ran his hands through the grass. There were just so _many blades._ He couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t even notice George joining in. 

“If you think the grass is cool, you’re going to lose your mind once we get to the capital,” George said with a soft smile. Dream laid down on his back and looked up at the sky. It was so much _bigger_ than he’d ever thought it was. It looked like it stretched as long as far as time itself. It was a blanket that draped the world in a beautiful blue that faded softy into clouds. The sun reached out into the world with golden strings, clothing the world in light. He suddenly wished he had brought his paints. 

“You can see the sky from your window,” George said, walking back to him. 

“It’s not the same, it’s not nearly as big,” Dream turned to face him and saw his hands full of flowers. His face suddenly felt warm as a smile forced itself onto him. He would never take the mask for granted again. “Have you ever touched these?” George asked. Dream just shook his head and sat up in the grass. 

“I’ve seen them from my window but I never… Mother never offered to bring them up,” _And I was too afraid to ask._ He reached and felt the petals carefully as if they would fall off the second he touched them. Dream ran his fingers over their stems and leaves making sure to memorize the textures. How one felt fuzzy, and another had thorns, and one left his fingers covered in yellow pollen. How his fingers felt when they grazed George’s. 

“Can I keep these?” He asked, trying not to let the fear of rejection seep into his words. George raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to, you can keep them, or put them back or-”

“No it’s fine, it’s just… a weird ask,” George said. Dream’s hands fell from the flowers. 

“Oh,”

“Not like that! I mean, they’re going to- just- wait a second,” George pushed the flowers into his hands and walked over to the bags George had carried down on his back for them. Dream watched curiously as he pulled out a half-empty wine bottle. George pulled out the cork and spilled the blood-red liquid out onto the ground. 

“George!” he shouted in protest. “That’s good wine!”

“It’s fine,” George insisted. _Well, it is his so I_ suppose _he gets to make the calls._ George walked over to Dream’s small pond and filled it up with water. Dream stood while George walked back and gently took the flowers from his hands. He put them in stem first into the small mouth of the bottle. Dream watched in fascination as he handed it back. 

“They won’t die now,” George insisted with a soft smile. “Hopefully,” Dream found himself oddly touched. 

“Thank you,” _Say something else you absolute moron._ “They’re very pretty,” _I hate myself so much right now._

“How would you know? They could be the ugliest flowers in the world and you wouldn’t know,” George challenged putting his arms through the straps on one of their bags. 

“Well, you could be the ugliest person in the world and I wouldn’t know,” Dream countered. George rolled his eyes. 

“You’re an idiot,” He tried to toss Dream the other bag but the weight forced him to hand it to him. Dream picked it up with one hand and slid it on. “Do you lift a lot of heavy stuff in that tower?” Dream shrugged. 

“I guess, I pull my mom up with the rope,” _Speaking of which._ Dream grabbed the rope and shook it until it unhooked itself and fell to the ground. 

“What is it with you and your mom? I know you never left the tower but why?” Dream shook his head. George started walking out of his cove and Dream followed. 

“It’s a dangerous place out there, murderers, witches, thieves,” George let out a half-formed laugh. 

“Well, you probably don’t have to worry about _witches,_ ” George insisted. “So you were just born there and decided to never leave?”

“Not quite, I’m not _technically_ allowed to leave,” George stopped in his tracks. 

“ _How_ old are you?” George asked, suddenly serious. Dream fiddled with the edge of his tunic. 

“21 in two days,” Dream insisted. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something?” _Why do I have to ruin everything?_

“What? No, I just-, you haven’t left that tower in _21 years_ and you _weren’t allowed to leave?_ Were you supposed to live there forever?”

“No of course not,” Dream put up his hands in defense, but last night's words came back to haunt him. _You are never leaving this tower, ever._

“Does she even know you left?” George asked. 

“She’s going to be gone for a few days to collect more perishables for my kitchen, it’s been harder to find food since the famine struck,” George squinted. 

“What famine? It’s practically harvest season, there’s more food this time of year than ever,” Dream crossed his arms as best he could with a wine bottle of flowers in his hand. 

“You must be mistaken, maybe I hit your head too hard when you broke into my tower,” 

“Or maybe you can't handle the idea that your mom is a liar,” Dream grit his teeth. 

“Sapnap, help me out or I am going to beat the shit out of pretty boy,” _Fuck I didn’t mean to say that last part._ Sapnap crawled his way out of Dream’s pocket. The tension snapped when Dream saw the confusion and shock on George’s face when he saw Sapnap. Dream couldn’t stop himself from wheezing at the sight. 

“That’s a lizard,” George said plainly. “No wonder you’re so weird, you hang out with crazy people and lizards,” 

“Please drop it,” Dream asked seriously and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to have to choose between his mom and his friend. Tour guide. Man who broke into his house. It should be an easy choice, but somehow Dream didn’t feel like defending his mother. And he knew he should feel awful for that. _I’ll deal with that later._ It was a good tactic, put his emotions and feelings aside and deal with them at a more convenient time, or preferably never. 

“Okay then, so explain the lizard,” George said. “Can we keep walking? We haven’t even made it out of the cove,” They walked along the thin path Dream had only ever seen his mom walk as he explained how he found Sapnap sitting on his window sill one day. George moved aside some vines that lead into a tunnel and they walked in darkness for a few moments before they broke through to the other side. 

“ _That’s a tree?!?_ ” Dream screamed. George let out a brief laugh. “It’s so _tall_ !” He ran up to it and ran his hands along the thick brown paper that covered the trunk. “What _is this?_ Can I keep some?”

“Keep some bark? I mean, it’s not my tree so I don’t see why not,” George walked over to him and broke off a piece of paper- bark. He offered it to Dream and he took it with his free hand. Dream put it in the pocket opposite to Sapnap and picked up a few leaves. 

“You’re making quite the collection,” George observed. 

“I can think of a thousand art projects I could make with these,” Dream said breathlessly. “I only read about these in books, I never thought I would actually _see_ one,” Dream grinned and shoved a few leaves into his bag. 

“What did you even _do_ in that tower?” George asked. 

“Candlemaking, reading, mask making, a lot of painting, chess, checkers, more painting, climbing, drawing, sculpting, cleaning, piano, extra painting, sewing, sketching, exercising, re-reading, cooking… Yeah, that’s about it,” Dream explained. George had a big grin on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, you just looked really happy talking about all that,” George said. 

“I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been,” Dream said. “Mother wouldn’t like that,” he realized. “She wouldn’t like that at all, that I’m happy without her. God, I really just left the tower. Why did I do that? Oh god, George why did I do that?” He asked as if George knew why. 

“I’m confused, you just said you were happy, why would-”

“She’s going to hate me, then I’ll be all alone,” Dream felt like there was sand in his lungs. He was trying to cough it out, but there was just so much. _I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe._ He faintly heard George calling out for him but Dream was getting covered in sand. There were rocks in his throat. _I’m going to die,_ he thought. 

“George,” He managed to croak out. Suddenly, someone grabbed him and wrapped their arms around him. 

“-ream,” someone whispered. The rocks quickly lost their edge and the sand started to fade away. “Dream, Dream can you hear me? It’s okay, I promise,” _You wouldn’t lie to me, would you George?_

“It’s not, it’s not,” He croaked out. “I shouldn’t have, why did I-”

“Dream, drink this,” George pushed a water skin into his free hand. He pulled it up to his lips with shaky hands and downed half of it. “Look, we can go back to the tower if you want-”

“No,” He sounded a lot more pathetic than he wanted. “I’m going to see those goddamn lights, George, I promise you that. It’s _my dream,_ ” _I_ need _you to understand that._ George simply nodded. 

“Okay Dream, but if you want to turn back, let me know and we’ll go straight home,” 

“Okay George,” Dream handed him back the water. “Thank you, mother wouldn’t have-”

“I figured,” George said and Dream frowned. He didn’t want to think about what his mother would have or wouldn’t have done, and why George had done more for him in the past hour than his mother had in a lifetime. _Lock up the feelings and put them in a box, or this happens._ Lesson learned. But, it did feel nice to be held and be told everything was going to be okay. 

* * *

George had just finished the strangest hug in his life when he got the idea. With a porcelain mask, a wine bottle, and a stack of flowers pushed between him and Dream, he could say with confidence it was an unusual experience for them both. Dream acted like he had never been hugged in his life and stiffened before George could even finish wrapping his arms around him. Somehow, it wasn’t unpleasant, very much the opposite. _7/10 hug, would do again,_ he thought jokingly. 

Dream was scared of heights (somehow), witches, monsters, and thieves (ironically), so naturally, if he wanted to scare Dream into going home and giving him the crown, the place to go was the Snuggly Duckling. When he suggested as much to Dream in the late day, he seemed on board. After all, how horrible could such a place be? 

Pretty bad, Dream soon found out. The place reeked of wood and wine, barrels full of liquor lined half the walls with weapons of various sizes and lethality on the other half. The only thing the place had more of than alcohol was criminals. The owner of the pub had cut a deal with the locals to provide regular amounts of wine in exchange for their silence when bounty hunters and soldiers rolled around. 

The place buzzed with conversation and chatter while Dream waltzed into the bar like he owned the place. George had to stifle his laughter as he walked behind Dream. 

“So, do you want a grilled cheese or what?’ George asked jokingly. Dream glanced back at him nervously. 

“This doesn’t look very welcoming,” Dream said. George shrugged. 

“I mean, it’s not for everyone, but this is about as welcoming as it gets,” he insisted. George felt a stab of guilt in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t be lying to this guy who had been lied to for who knows how long. A guy who got up the courage to leave everything and everyone he knew to follow his dreams. It was a lot braver than he would get credit for. George sighed. 

“Alright, we can find another-”

“Hey!” Someone called out from behind them. George sighed again. _Of course, I’m probably the most wanted man in the kingdom by now._ “Aren’t you that guy from the posters?” George turned around and put on a confident smile. 

“Be kind to my friend, it’s his first time here,” 

“If there is any fighting in my bar, I’ll punt you all back onto the road,” The owner (Peter? Paul? Phil? Philza, that was it) called. 

“No, that’s the guy from all the wanted posters! He’s got a pretty bounty on his head,” _Shit_. 

“George, what are they talking about?” Dream asked from behind him with grit teeth. 

“Gentlemen-” Another man from his left grabbed the front of his shirt. 

“I’ll take this one,” he insisted. A taller guy came up and pulled his bag, taking George with it. 

“No, figured out who he was!” The first guy said rushing up to them with a half-broken bottle. 

“Take your bull shit outside or I’m calling the Queen’s Jays,” Philza shouted. George groaned, the last thing they needed was _more_ criminals/mercenaries. Suddenly, the large man grabbing his bag found an axe at his neck. 

“I’m going to need you to let him go,” Dream said calmly. 

“You brought the axe!?!” George shouted. He never wanted to kiss someone and stab them at the same time before.

Dream did look quite intimidating to be fair, he was way over six feet tall and had his expressions covered by the mask. He definitely worked out based on his physique and might be able to take a couple of the guys here. If Dream hadn’t cried into his chest a few hours earlier, he probably would have been scared too. If this wasn’t the same guy who had just touched grass for the first time. If this wasn’t the same guy who spent his days painting and dreaming of lanterns. 

“I’m going to talk, and you’re all going to listen because otherwise, I would have to break the rules. And I’m sure the nice man over the counter would hate to clean up your mess,” 

“True,” Philza said. 

“Are we clear?” Dream asked the whole room as if he wanted them to say no so he could fill the floorboards with wine and blood. When he got no response he just started talking. 

“This idiot, right here,” Dream gestured at him with the axe. “Is supposed to bring me to see the lanterns in the capital, it’s my _dream,_ it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. My whole life, just to see the lights. And I can’t do that, without him. Alive and preferably whole. Have _none_ of you ever wanted something more than life itself?” He asked the silent bar. No one said anything. _I really hope you’re prepared to kill all these people or_ be _killed by them._

“I had a dream,” Philza spoke up. Everyone turned to him. “Running a bar was never on my list of things to achieve, I inherited this place from my father. I always wanted to settle down somewhere in the capital with a lovely wife and have kids,” He explained. _If this actually works-_

“I always wanted to be a musician,” Someone in the back corner said. George vaguely remembered him as Wilbur from when he first met Tommy and Tubbo months ago. “I would have if I hadn’t lost my fingers,” Wilbur held up a gloved hand with only three fingers on it. 

“I wanted to be a baker,” A short man near the door said. “Muffins and pastries,” _Dream’s insane,_ George thought. _There is genuinely something wrong with him. Especially if he pulls this off._

“I always wanted to be a criminal,” A man in very fancy, clearly stolen clothes admitted. George rolled his eyes. Of course, Schlatt of all people wanted to be a criminal. 

“No one asked you,” A man with a mask covering the lower half of his face said. “I dreamt of being a doctor when I was younger,”

“I always wanted to see the lanterns in the capital,” Dream explained. “I’ve never been so happy as I have been today, going to see them for the first time in person,” His energy was contagious and George could feel the grin under the mask. Dream ran up to the half masked man. “You can _still_ be a doctor, nothing is stopping you. And you,” Dream turned to the short man by the door. “You can still be a baker!” George had to stop himself from grinning. There was _no_ way this worked. 

“What’s your dream, George?” Dream asked him. 

“Oh uh,” George stumbled over his words. “I’ve got a dream. Yep. I want to live on a warm island, by myself, in the middle of the ocean. Preferably surrounded by enormous piles of money,” He admitted with a laugh. 

“That’s a shit dream,” Philza called from behind the counter. A couple of people in the pub laughed. “Go find your dream, boy, take your tour guide with you,” George didn’t even notice the man grabbing his bag had let go. Dream ran over to George and pulled on his arm, leading him towards the door. 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Wilbur said to them. 

“Cheers,” Schlatt said next to him. “I’ll drink to that,” he downed another shot. Wilbur rolled his eyes. 

“Thank you, I really hope you can make it as a musician,” Dream said fondly. Wilbur gave him a kind and genuine smile before returning to his drink. George briefly glanced out the window in the door. His eyes caught sight of a familiar spiked helmet. 

“Soldiers,” He hissed and pulled Dream down. Immediately everyone but Dream scrambled to put away their weapons. “So, I didn’t really tell you this but I’m wanted, by several kingdoms, especially this one,”

“And you didn’t tell me this, why?” Dream asked under his breath. 

“It didn’t seem very important,” Dream rolled his eyes and George grabbed his sleeve. “We have to get out of here. Phil, is there a back door?”

“No, but I have a trapdoor down to the wine cellar, you guys can hide in there,” Phil offered. George ran over to the counter dragging Dream behind him. Dream went down before him, skinny legs first. George quickly followed and closed the trapdoor mere seconds before he heard the sound of the front door opening. 

“Just go,” he whispered and pushed Dream down the long hall. They ran down the rows of various vintages barely able to see more than a few feet in front of them. Dream took a sharp turn and went down a narrower hall that led away from the pub. George could have sworn he could hear the rushing of water. Dream stopped in his tracks. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“What, the water?” 

“No, someone just opened the trapdoor,” George’s eyes widened in fear. _Snitches._

“ _Then why did you stop running?!? Run!”_ He shouted, pushing Dream down the narrow hall again. George vaguely heard footsteps from behind them. “Go faster,” He urged quietly. He could barely see Dream’s bun bobbing up higher as they broke out into sprints in the dark hall. _How the hell is he faster than me?_ He wondered. 

“ _Fuck!”_ Dream shouted as he ran face-first into a wall. George couldn’t stop himself before he crashed into Dream. 

“You okay? We have to-” Light broke into the corridor shining down on Dream as if he had just come down from heaven itself to save him. The ‘wall’ Dream ran into turned out to be a door and opened up into an orange canyon being illuminated by the setting sun. Dream grabbed George’s wrist with one hand and gripped the axe harder with the other before sprinting into the canyon. 

Only, it wasn’t a canyon. As George’s eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed a huge wall of wooden planks covering a large portion of the gorge. _We’re in a dam,_ he realized. A dam that would quickly turn into their prison if they didn’t come up with something soon. 

“Dream stop,” George tugged back his wrist and Dream stopped. “Give me the axe, I’ll hold them off, find us a way out of here,” 

“George I’m not going to leave you to die-”

“I didn’t say leave me to die here, I said go find a way out while I hold them off,” Dream nodded in understanding and handed him the axe. 

“If you die on me I’ll be so pissed,” Dream grumbled before running off. George couldn’t help but chuckle as he turned to face the inevitable attackers. 

“Alright boys, let's dance,” he said to the door and empty corridor. George cringed at his words. _Well, let’s fight sounds even worse. I suppose I could-_

Much to George’s surprise, a white horse that should have been way too large to fit through the hall burst out into the evening air. The same white horse from his chase with Tommy and Tubbo. George blinked in surprise while five soldiers poured out from the tunnel. 

“This might as well happen,” He muttered and gripped the axe tighter. _Hurry Dream,_ he silently prayed to any god who could hear to get them both out of there. Three of the soldiers came rushing at him with raised swords while the other two stayed out of the way. George could manage well enough with a sword, but axes were wholly unfamiliar to him. It weighed far more than he’d expected and came crashing down to the ground while missing his target completely. _Okay, new plan._

George ran towards the opposite end of the dam looking for something, _anything_ to use. A stream of water, some rocks, various foliage, then he saw it. The dam itself. _This is going to cause_ so _many problems,_ he thought with a grin and broke into a sprint. All five guards and a horse were chasing him, blissfully unaware of Dream looking for an escape. George ran up to the thin wooden walls and slammed the heavy axe into it with all of his strength. 

At first, nothing happened other than wood splintering out from the wall. Then George hit it again and water started to leak out. One more hit and then planks started breaking off from the wall, water rushing out of it with the thrill of being released. The horse behind him ran towards him in an attempt to trample him, but George just dodged and ran back. Axes he couldn’t do, but run and dodge he could _definitely_ manage. 

“George!” Dream cried out from across the canyon. George didn’t need to hear anymore and picked up his run. The soldiers realized the dam was breaking behind him and ran back towards the tunnel to the pub. Dream pointed to his left towards a cave in the wall with an entrance barely big enough to fit through. 

The walls of the canyon shook as the dam broke with a mighty boom, nearly bringing George to the ground. Water crashed down into the ravine slamming against the walls. George managed to make it to the cave at the same time as Dream just before water came bursting down. The force of the water broke down a pillar of rock that came down angrily to the cave, blocking the tiny entrance completely. 

“Please tell me there is a way out of here,” George practically begged heading towards the back of the cave. Water slowly started flowing in from the cracks near the entrance. 

“Uh, there should be, there's a river just on the other side of this wall,” Dream said. The cave was much too small and dark for them to see much of anything. Water began pooling at their ankles. Dream walked back towards the edge of the cave and felt along the walls. “Just try and find some loose rocks that we can move aside,” The stupid lizard crawled out of Dream’s pocket to sit on his shoulder. George followed his lead and jiggled rocks to see if they might move. They played that game for a few minutes, but it was mostly useless with them being able to see almost nothing. 

“Dream,” George stopped his movement. The water was up to his waist now. “Dream,”

“It’s fine George, we’ll find a way out and you’ll take me to see the lights and the capital and-”

“Dream!” He stopped with the rocks and turned to George. “We can barely see inches in front of us and there’s nothing in here,” They stayed quiet for a moment while water crawled its way up their bodies. 

“I don’t want to die here,” Dream said quietly. “I just wanted to see the lights, and you just wanted your stupid satchel-”

“If I knew how annoying you would be I would have left you in the tower,” George joked. Dream let out a half-hearted laugh. 

“Yeah, maybe I should have just stayed there,” Dream whispered softly. 

“Oh god no,” George said. “I’m having a great time, despite the fact that we’re going to die,”

“Sorry for dragging you into this cave,” Dream apologized as water crawled up to George’s torso. 

“Sorry for breaking the dam,” They both laughed at that before settling into silence. “I uh-, you might not be _so_ bad,” Dream let out a genuine chuckle. 

“Oh no I am, mother would leave sometimes, I’m surprised you haven’t yet,” George furrowed his brow instead of making a joke about not being able to leave anyways. _I’m not liking this mother character._

“Dream, you’re quick-witted, genuine, passionate, and funny. I don’t know why anyone would leave you, especially your mother,”

“It’s because I’m insufferable,” Dream said almost angrily. “I’m immature and ugly, I’m someone who doesn’t deserve to be cared for,” 

“What?” George took a quick step forward and wrapped his friend into a hug as carefully as he could while holding the axe while water sloshed against their bodies. “Dream, I’m not going to leave you. I like you just the way you are, for any and all imperfections. You should let yourself be cared for,” Dream let out a choked sob. 

“It’s our last few minutes alive and you’re comforting me?” Dream asked as he hugged him back, mask digging into his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” _Somehow._

“I’m sor-”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” George assured him confidently. Dream nodding into him. George sighed. _This is a terrible idea._ “You want to know why I climbed into your tower?”

“Cause you’re a weirdo,” Dream offered. Water climbed up to his shoulders. 

“No. Well, I stumbled upon your cove while I was running from my idiot partners in crime,” George closed his eyes. _I really don’t have to admit it._ “I heard you singing,” Dream lighted his grip on George in surprise. “I thought it was some pretty lady and just… really liked it. It was like you were a siren and I was some poor shuck out at sea, pulled in by your song,” Dream considered that for a moment while the lizard crawled up to Dream’s head and clamped on his hair with its claws. 

“Well if we’re sharing weird stories, I’ve got one,” George grinned. The water climbed to his chin and they started swimming towards the ceiling that grew ever closer. “My hair glows when I sing,” George blinked. 

What. 

“Your-”

His hair…

“It’s only one specific song,” Dream admitted unwrapping his arms from George. He took out the bun in his hair letting it fall to the water. 

“Your hair,” George swallowed. “It glows?”

“Yeah,” Dream nodded. They floated there for a few moments in the dark. George’s feet kicked Dream’s a few times while trying to stay afloat. “My hair glows when I sing,” Dream repeated in a wholly different tone. “ _George,_ my hair _glows,”_ Dreams started wheezing. _He’s gone crazy from the lack of oxygen._

Then Dream started singing. It was a pleasant song about a glowing flower. But George didn’t care about the song nearly as much as the man singing it. George could barely see Dream but couldn’t stop looking at the eyes in his mask while Dream poured his signature passion into each word. It reminded him of the painting in Dream’s tower, the one with the floating lights. The one that bleeds Dream’s hope. For the first time, George felt like he could see all of the colors of the rainbow. It was beautiful, _he_ was beautiful, with his freckled hands, his insecurities, his painting and passion and music. George loved all of him more than he could say. 

George was dragged against his will from the trance by Dream’s blonde hair illuminating with light. It was one thing to hear about magic hair, and another to see it. George watched dumbfoundedly as Dream’s lengthy hair glowed in the water, traced back up to Dream’s head. Water climbed up to their heads and they both took one last gulp of air before Dream’s song was cut off. They opened their eyes under the water with golden string lighting the cave. George instantly spotted a loose rock in the corner and swam to it as best he could with an axe in hand. 

He ripped the stone off the wall and felt a stab of pain before more came tumbling down, opening up a hole just large enough to swim through. George pushed his way in, taking a quick look back to make sure Dream was following him. When he was sure, he swam out towards the surface as quickly as possible. 

* * *

Dream smiled at George’s sleeping form with Sapnap curled up on the log next to him. Dream had to drag the idiot out of the river when he passed out on the shore. Dream forced him to cough up the water before lying him on the ground and making camp. He’d lit a fire with flint from George’s soaking bag and laid George on his equally soaking bedroll. Dream poked at the fire and felt the cold midnight air on his face. It was nice to take the mask off for a bit, to see and feel the world without having to hide. Truth be told, he hated the thing, but that didn’t mean he didn't _need_ it. George groaned and shuffled next to him as Dream hastily tied the mask back onto his face. 

“Morning, or, evening rather,” Dream said, poking George’s head playfully. 

“Where? What-”

“We almost drowned and I had to drag you out of the river, not that it was too hard anyways,” George frowned. 

“I’m not that short,” Dream let out a wheeze. 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t light,” George sat up in his bedroll, and Dream offered him some dried meat. Well, it was supposed to be dried but it was an unfortunate victim of the water. 

“Your hair is down,” George said. Dream felt his face go hot. _Why did_ that _make me flustered?_ His blonde hair draped halfway down his back. It was short enough that he could fit it into a bun without too much trouble but long enough that his mother could use it as she pleased. _Not that I have much say in the length anyway._

“Yeah, I have to dry it out or it’s going to bother me while I sleep,” He explained. “Is the hair thing too weird? And the singing?”

“No! No, it’s just something to get used to,” George admitted while rubbing his thumb across his hand. 

“Oh my goodness, I forgot to dress your wound,” Dream realized scrambling through their packs for bandages. _Oh, wait._ Dream chuckled to himself. “Are you ready for things to get weirder?” Dream almost burst out into laughter at the look of terror on George’s face. 

“You’re not going to like, change your hair color or something, right?” 

“Oh no, Georgie thinks I’m going to change my hair color. He likes me pretty doesn’t he Sapnap?” The chameleon didn’t stir from his slumber. The color rushed to George’s face. 

“Wha-, no, I-” Dream wheezed again while George stammered to explain himself. _It’s nothing_ he assured himself. _Just a joke he couldn’t throwback._ “Here, let me show you,” He took George’s hand in his and tried to ignore the screaming nerves in his hand and the panicked voices in his head. Dream laid his blonde hair over George’s cut and looked to him for reassurance. George hesitantly nodded and Dream began singing again. 

The hair lit up once again and golden light shone through the strands, bringing the night to life. It was like a thousand glowing fireflies dancing around to the sound of his music. George, instead of watching his hand be healed, or the glowing light, stared directly into Dream’s eyes. Carefully, Dream stared back, trying to identify the look in his eyes. Was it admiration? Disbelief? Dream didn’t know, but he didn’t stop looking. George’s eyes were just so, so dark, and were warm pools of brown. Dream wanted to take those eyes and show them the world. The world they could see together if only he’d let him. 

Dream finished the song and dropped George's hand. The wound had gone away, but neither of them really cared. Dream leaned closer to George and his eyes dropped down to George’s lips. But Dream couldn’t take them. Because what if George left him? Alone again, back in the tower for three weeks, hardly eating, letting dust and dirt infest the tower. Alone. Again. Because of the mask. It physically made a barrier between them. A barrier that would mean George would have to be subject to Dream’s face. His crooked nose, his face dirtied with freckles, his lips that were too small. _I can’t lose him._ Dream pulled away from George and turned back to his pack before pulling out his own bedroll. George looked away and pulled at his wet collar. 

“I- uh,” George stammered. 

“Don’t worry about it, it was no problem,” Dream tried to level his voice. George cleared his throat. 

“We should get to the capital the morning after this,” George explained quietly. Dream nodded and laid down on the ground. “I can take watch,” George offered. 

“Alright,” Dream rolled over, his back to him. 

“Goodnight Dream,” 

“Goodnight George,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act three is going to be LONG, heads up.  
> I said "with golden string" like four times this chapter lmao, so sorry.  
> I hope y'all like the chapter, thanks to everyone for their comments and kudos.


	3. Act three (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callbacks, the movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said there would be four parts? I lied, act three got too long so I'm splitting it into two.

Their second night together, Dream took the first half of the evening to keep watch. On the eve of his birthday, Dream had a visitor emerge from the woods. A face he hadn’t seen in days. The only other face he really knew. 

His mother first embraced him in a hug, then checked his maskless face for scratches and bruises. Dream grinned at her while he told her about how great a time he was having. He told her about George, about how he was so kind to him. He told her about Wilbur who wanted to be a musician, about the crazy horse that had chased George around the dam, about how big and beautiful the sky was. Dream told her how genuinely happy he was, about how he thought he might have found someone who might love him as she did. 

But she made his delusions very clear. He’d invented a romance in his head to fill the hole that had dug itself when he’d left the tower. Why would George like him? He was far too immature to be out here on his own. 

But he  _ wasn’t  _ on his own. He had George-

His mother scoffed and had thrown a familiar bag at him. George only hung around for the satchel and it’s contents. She challenged Dream to give it to George and see what happened. She told him to not come crying back once he ran. 

And just like that, Dream was alone again. Stood alone in the woods, holding the only thing George cared about.  _ Well, that’s just not true,  _ a voice in the back of his head challenged. The voice sounded suspiciously like George. Dream remembered what George had said, when it was just them, alone in the cave, minutes away from being swallowed by the waters and drowned in darkness. 

_ I’m not going to leave you. I like you just the way you are, for any and all imperfections. You should let yourself be cared for...  _

Dream could trust George, he could trust him to not drop him on a dime. George wouldn’t betray him, George wouldn’t  _ leave  _ him, not for nothing.  _ But he might, for this.  _ Dream opened the satchel and checked its contents. The mysterious gold object and a wanted poster for George. He snorted at the nickname and horribly inaccurate picture before shoving it back inside. Dream sighed and stuffed the satchel in his pack. 

* * *

George awoke the next morning, alone and confused with the stupid lizard curled up on his chest. He also awoke to a very large, very  _ angry  _ horse standing above him, panting heavily.  _ Shit.  _

“George!” Dream shouted from behind the horse dropping something to the ground. George screamed and the horse whipped around to see Dream brandishing the axe with both hands and a pile of dropped firewood at his feet. 

“Do you know this horse?!?” Dream screamed at him with half confusion and half terror in his voice. 

“Kind of!” George shouted back. The horse looked back at him while George just blinked furiously. The mare grabbed George’s tunic with her teeth dragging George to his feet. George just screamed. “Kill it! Dream! Kill it!”

“It’s an animal, George! What would Sapnap think of us? Killing an innocent horse?”

“ _ Dream I am going to fucking die!”  _ He shouted while the horse dragged him away. Dream stepped in front of the mare blocking her path.

“Hey horse, whatcha doing with my friend here?” Dream asked cautiously.  _ Friend,  _ the word rang in his head a few times before settling down. It both gave him the greatest pleasure to hear and made him slightly disappointed. 

“Dream I swear to god if you pull another move like you did at the Snuggly Duckling  _ I’m going to lose my mind,”  _ George berated with girt teeth. 

“What’s your name?” Dream asked, lowering the axe and letting one hand fall from it. He reached out with a tentative hand to the straps around her that George hadn’t bothered to notice. The sigil of the royal family, a golden sun was embroidered onto the center. “Spirit? That’s a lovely name,” The horse snorted. 

“Dream, you can't talk your way out of this one, this is a  _ goddamn horse,  _ not some idiots in a pub,” George's protests landed on deaf ears. 

“Ah, I think I understand, you're one of the royal horses, I’ve seen this sun of yours everywhere,” George blinked. He wasn’t sure he could handle another Dream induced heart attack. “Are you here to drag the notorious thief George ‘the unfound’ to the royal dungeons?”  _ When did he read my wanted posters?  _

The horse, Spirit, gave another snort that could have easily been mistaken as confirmation.  _ First lizards, then thieves, now horses.  _ He wondered if Dream could speak another language if given the chance. Dream chuckled at the horse. 

“Listen Spirit, do you know what today is? It’s the sun festival and also my birthday. It has been my _dream_ to see those lanterns in person, and this is my only chance. Can you let me keep him for one day? Then you two can have your dramatic fight by a cliffside or whatever,” George just stood there, with half of his tunic in a horse’s teeth, mouth wide open in shock. _He’s done it again._ Dream had this contagious energy about him that spread to any and all people that came in contact with him. His thoughts wandered to Dream’s mother, a woman who had tried so hard,  for so many years to crush that energy, that dream under the heel of her boot. George felt his blood grow hot under his veins.  _ I can’t let him go back there,  _ he realized.  _ I can’t let him lose himself. _ I  _ can’t lose him.  _

Spirit released his tunic from her mouth and George stumbled forward. 

“You’re welcome to come with us if you’d like,” Dream offered. George whipped his head around to give Dream a look that very clearly read ‘ _ please, oh god, please no’.  _ Dream might have shot him back a look, but it was hidden under that god awful mask. George wanted to rip the thing off and put Dream’s face in his hands. He wanted to see his eyes, he wanted to see his face while he sang, he wanted to see the freckles that he knew hid under there somewhere.  _ I need to stop this before I do something stupid.  _

The other night Dream had very clearly rejected any sort of advancement in their relationship. George had taken the step forward, and Dream took two back. Dream had lain his heart out, bare and plain for George to see in that cave. If he had anything to hide, it would have been said then and there. 

But no matter what, Dream could  _ not  _ go back to the tower. George would take them, far away, to some other kingdom that hadn't even heard the name George ‘the unfound’. They could explore the cities and woods, the countryside and the sea. George would show Dream snow and storms and spring and autumn. He would fuel Dream’s light for as long as he could. And if Dream ever grew tired of him, George would let him go. George would let him go be happy any way, anywhere he could, even if that was without him. 

Anywhere except the tower. 

* * *

The next few hours were some of the best of their lives. He toured Dream around the capital, one hand in his and the other always pointing at some attraction. 

George remembered that Dream liked reading and showed him the library. Dream fawned over the books with names he had never heard of and ran his hands over every spine. George laughed when Dream’s mouth fell open as he told him that they were all free for the taking as long as you brought them back. They had spent an hour picking out a dozen books that Dream read through surprisingly quickly. Dream wrote down the names of half a hundred books that he wanted to read before he let George drag him back outside. 

George remembered that Dream liked drawing, so he took him to the square where children drew over the bricks with chalk. Dream had taken a few moments to figure out how to use the chalk before going to work. George spent a few hours helping Dream work on a massive mural of the sun sigil of the royal family. Somehow a group of children got their hands on Dream’s hair when George wasn’t looking and braided it with flowers. He came back smelling of pollen and lilacs that made George’s face flush red for liking it. Dream could not stop his wheezing when he saw his crimson cheeks. 

George remembered that Dream liked painting, and took him to see the largest mural in the city, a painting of the lost prince for whom the festival was held for. George had read the pamphlets around the city made for guests and recited what he remembered to Dream. He explained that the queen was having fertility issues and drank the remains of some magic flower that was a legend in the forests. She gave birth to a healthy son, but mere days after the child was born, he had disappeared out of thin air. The royal couple was devastated and commissioned the mural in his honor. Most people assumed he was assassinated by an enemy kingdom or died in the crib, but the royal couple still  held out hope. They released the lanterns with the hope it would lead the prince home. Dream started at the mural for an oddly long amount of time before taking one of the flowers out of his braid and placing it on the many more flowers that were littered underneath the painting. George stared at the mural too, a little baby boy being held by the royal couple. The baby had green eyes and light hair. George wondered what color Dream’s eyes were. He had his money on green. Green was the color of grass and trees and the sun and life. Or at least he was  _ pretty  _ sure. 

George remembered that Dream liked piano and singing, then took him to a music shop. Dream fiddled with a guitar and touched nearly every instrument in the shop before settling down with the piano. George sat silently as Dream’s fingers ran across the porcelain keys playing a jovial tune. His voice rang out into the streets attracting a small crowd before finishing the song with a bow. 

George remembered Dream’s voice long after it had ceased. George remembered Dream’s giddy laughs as he ran through the library. George remembered Dream’s hands covered in chalk rubbing off on his clothes when he had finished the mural. 

George also remembered his promise to Dream that night when he took him by the hand to buy two lanterns. He rented a canoe with money that was  _ definitely  _ not stolen so they could release the lanterns on the water. He stole a barrel of apples for Spirit to chew on and tried his best to talk the lizard into staying with the horse (a task he miserably failed at). George brought Dream to the docks just as the sun was setting down below the skyline. 

“Very fancy,” Dream commented when he saw the canoe decorated with flowers. George’s face flushed red, he most certainly did  _ not  _ ask for that. 

“I swear I had nothing to do with this,” George insisted while Dream wheezed like a kettle. He threw their bags into the boat  while he waited for Dream to calm himself. Dream stepped into the boat recklessly, as if he didn’t expect it to rock. 

“ _ George!”  _ Dream screamed while he fell onto the canoe’s floor. It was George’s turn to laugh while he watched Dream struggle to understand the concept of a canoe. George himself stepped carefully onto the rocky wood floor and sat on the small plank across from Dream. 

“I assume I’ll be rowing,” George joked as he picked up the oars. Dream scoffed and pulled the lizard out of his pocket. It crawled up to the bow of the canoe to just sit there and watch the show. George tried to restrain himself from throwing the stupid lizard into the water as he rowed them out to the middle of the lake. 

“You didn’t steal this, did you?” Dream asked, only half-joking. 

“Of course not,” George assured him. Dream nodded and looked out onto the water. “But I definitely stole the money to pay for it,” Dream whipped his head back to look at George and definitely gave a playful glare from under the mask. George rowed in silence for a few minutes while Dream stared up at the sky expectantly. 

“What do I do once it’s over?” Dream asked. “Once I’ve done the one thing that I’ve ever wanted to do, what then?” George stopped rowing and pondered on the question for a few moments. He wanted to grab Dream’s face in his hands and beg him not to lose who he was. Just the thought of Dream losing his spark, his drive, his passion that bled from his words, from his song, from his painting. The bright sense of hope that etched itself into every bit of Dream’s life. The contagious nature of it was terrifying, it had the power to move a whole room full of heartless criminals, to move a deranged horse that didn’t even speak English, to move an empty thief that used to want nothing more than to live alone with endless riches. A thief that didn’t care about who he  hurt along the way, who thought only for himself because that’s what he was taught. 

But he wanted more than that now, if he dared hope. To have someone who he could love, and someone who might care back. George  _ needed  _ it, but he was willing to let go, to break and crumble into pieces because for the first time in years, he had found someone he would put in front of himself. He wanted to go back in time, two days prior, and slap himself across the face for trying to crush Dream’s hopes so he could get some stupid crown. He wanted to go further back in time to three days ago and tell Dream how wonderful his music and his painting was. And more than all of that, he wanted to go back ten, twenty years and save Dream from the tower that had eventually become his prison. The place that had tried to extinguish Dream’s fire before it had even begun to spark. 

“Dream,” George took the gloved hands in his own. “Once it’s over, we can do anything you’d like. I can take you to mountains, to castles and oceans, deserts and arctics, anywhere you want. The world is at your fingertips,” He assured him. Dream’s eyes didn’t break from their hands. 

“I’ve been looking out that window for twenty-one years, dreaming about what it might feel like when those lights rise in the sky,” Dream swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “What if it isn’t everything I dreamed it would be?” Dream asked. 

“It will be,” George promised. Dream broke his gaze from their hands. 

“And if it is? Then what?”  _ I take you as far away from here as possible.  _ George never wanted to look into his eyes as badly as he did now. 

“That’s the good part I guess. You get to find a new dream,” George forced his eyes to stay locked on Dream’s. If he looked down and saw their hands locked together, sitting across from each other on the perfect night, he wouldn’t be able to stop h imself from crying.  _ George  _ was supposed to be the strong one, for both of them. Dream ever so slightly nodded and broke their gaze. 

“When do they release the light- lanterns?” Dream asked. As if on cue, the bells from all of the churches, schools, watch towers, and every building with one rang out across the water at once. With several powerful  _ bongs,  _ they rippled across the lake and gave the canoe the smallest shake. 

Then he saw the first lantern. 

* * *

The first light lit up from the shore reflecting off the water. Dream watched in awe as it was released into the sky, slowly rising into the cloudless expanse. 

“The royal couple always releases their lanterns first,” George explained to him as he pulled out their lanterns. Dream watched in awe as more lights lit across the sea line, he gazed throughout the city as each and every house, school, shop, and store lit up. The lanterns slowly rose up from the town and made their way out to the lake and beyond. He couldn’t help but feel that the night was made just for him, everything he ever wanted laid out before him on a silver plate. This world, so large and  _ beautiful,  _ so far from anything he had ever known, felt like it was there for him to enjoy, to explore, and love. There was not a person in the world that could stop his grin as it broke out onto his face. Dream wanted to cry. 

“For you, my good sir,” George offered sarcastically. Dream turned to face George holding out a lantern, already lit. Just for him. It was a quaint little thing, but it meant the world to him. The sun sigil of the royal family was embroidered on the tissue with the thinnest gold string. 

“Are you ready?” George asked him from behind his own lantern.

“Yes,” Dream said breathlessly. They both pushed their lanterns up together and they flew up slowly towards the stars. The universe was clothed in light as the sky pulled up the lanterns at the seams, filling the barren world with fire. Dream broke his eyes away from the show to look at George for just a moment. Every time he saw that stupid, perfect face it was like falling for him all over again. That stupid mouth that had brought him violet things, angry things, and Dream had done his best to turn them kind. Criminals, thieves, soldiers, mad horses, all of it. Dream would go through it thousand times more if he could live in this moment forever. 

This was exactly where his dreams should have led him, to this lake, these lights, to George. Dream was blind and stupid. He had been wanting the lights, the lanterns, wanting and waiting from his tower, wondering when his life would begin. Where that life would take him, where he was supposed to be.  _ It’s here,  _ he realized.  _ Here, on this boat, under this sky, with George.  _ He felt like he was back in the tower, that golden ring on his head, when suddenly everything clicked, when the world had felt right. Dream took George’s hands again, George turned from the sky to Dream. He was holding the gold ring again, in his hands. 

All he had to do was take the leap. 

Dream let go of George and reached behind his head, unthreading the golden stings that had held him back for so long.  _ Too long.  _

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” George asked cautiously.  _ Yes,  _ Dream thought. 

“Of course I do,” he insisted confidently. He untangled the last knot of the gold string on his mask and took a quick glance at George. He had never seemed as beautiful as he did today. He never seemed so far away, so elusive and surreal. Dream still held the mask to his face, not letting it drop.

“It’s fine if you can’t, we can always-” Dream put a finger to his mouth, leaving the other to hold up the mask. 

“I can handle it,” He promised him. Dream looked at the edge of the mask and wrapped both of his gloved hands around it.  _ As long as I let go, I’ll be fine, _ he assured himself. His hands shook around the porcelain. 

“Don’t give up on yourself,” George urged him. “If this is something you want to do, you can do it. You’re a lot braver than I ever gave you credit for,” Dream met George’s eyes. 

He let the mask fall from his face. 

“I love you so much,” he mumbled with his eyes closed. “Let’s hope this wasn’t a terrible idea,” Dream pushed his face to George’s, their lips meeting with a soft embrace.

The kiss was warm and real and right. The world shifted around them now that everything was in place. Dream felt George’s hands slide to his cheeks and Dream laid his hands on George’s thighs. The lights in the sky paled in comparison to the lights bubbling to the surface in Dream’s chest as they sat there, together finally doing what Dream had ached for for days. 

Dream didn’t want to break apart, but he had to make sure. Dream pulled away first and held George’s gaze for a moment. George’s eyes scanned his face over and over again. Dream wondered for a split second if George thought he was ugly, or chubby, or worse. But George wasn’t like that. His mother was wrong about George, and he was willing to accept that. She was wrong about a lot of things actually. The thieves didn’t have sharp teeth and claws, the murderers weren’t soulless beings that wanted nothing but blood, and Dream was yet to meet a witch. 

_ She was also wrong about this, _ he thought as he dug through his bag for the satchel. Dream pulled it out by the leather straps and placed it in George’s lap.

“You kept your promise,” Dream said. “You get your prize,” George barely even looked at the satchel before tossing it behind his seat. 

“I don’t care about the stupid crown,” George told him before grabbing Dream’s face again and pulling them into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, next chapter is a concoction of pain, angst, and suffering.   
> I hope you guys liked this chapter and don't mind me splitting it in two, I had a ton of fun. Let me know what you thought in the comments! Or don't, I dunno. I really like them but it's ultimately your choice.


	4. Act three (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constant agony, the movie
> 
> I spelled George wrong 8 different ways while writing this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // tw, panic attack, very mild self-harm, like one sentence of suicidal thoughts, stabbing
> 
> Yeah this was a fun one lol

Dream’s eyes were green. 

Freckles were scattered across his face, under his eyes, covering his cheeks. 

For just a moment, he considered if he was living in a mirage. But Dream  _ was _ there, shining in the starlight, the light of the lanterns overhead making him glow. All of him, just for George. He had never felt so wanted. 

They just sat there together, under the glowing sky, watching the lanterns rise up into infinity. Dream grasped his hand, firm but gentle as if he was afraid that George too would float away into the endless expanse. George could understand his worry, he felt like he was floating too. 

George broke his eyes away from their perfect night and looked back at Dream.  _ All of him _ , here and real. George reached out to Dream with his free hand and tucked back a stray strand of hair. George furrowed his brow. Dream’s hair was completely golden blonde, except for this one, short lock. Dream seemed to notice George’s confusion and turned back to him, face frozen in time with a look of content and peace. 

“Ah, that was ages ago,” Dream explained. “Remember how my hair glows? Well, when it’s cut, it turns brown and loses its magic. Mother tried to give me a haircut when I was far too young to remember and it never grew back,” Dream shrugged. Neither of them really understood much about it, but George didn't really care. Dream could have an extra arm and he wouldn’t care. When Dream took off the mask, George never for a second feared he was ugly, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pleasantly surprised with Dream’s face. 

George just kept looking up at Dream and gave him a quick nod in understanding. He wanted to memorize every line in his face, every freckle, how his face crumpled when he grinned. 

Dream would try to go back to the tower tomorrow, and George would stop him. By any means necessary. If that made Dream hate him, that was fine. All that matters is that Dream lives happy and free.  _ That’s all that should have ever mattered,  _ he thought and briefly remembered the satchel behind his back. The crown for the lost prince, the dead man that had inadvertently brought Dream and George together. George would have to try and remember his name, maybe place a flower or two at his mural. A quiet thank you. If there was no lost prince, there were no lights and there was no stolen crown. 

George sighed and leaned into Dream's shoulder. Dream stiffened under his head. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and sat back up. “I know we just-”

“No! No no, it’s fine, it’s great actually,” Dream stuttered. “I mean, it’s fine if you want to,” Dream paused for a moment. “So, was that just a one-time thing or…?” George rolled his eyes and gave Dream a quick peck on the cheek. He then wrapped an affectionate arm around Dream’s shoulders. The last lanterns faded out into the night sky and slowly the lights on the shoreline, the lights from street lanterns and hearts, and everything in between eventually faded out as well. George glanced at the opposite shoreline, the one they were quickly approaching. George squinted at the beach. 

He could just barely make out two figures through the fog that had settled on the shoreline, one significantly taller than the first. As the canoe flowed steadily towards them, the figures became clearer.  _ Well, I’ll be damned. _ The two figures were undoubtedly the Stabbington Brothers, his ‘partners in crime’ that had done half the work stealing the crown. George peered at the satchel that sat beside them from their shared seat in the middle of the boat. If George wasn’t going to ever use the thing, maybe the two teens on the shore would. The teens started walking into the woods, shortening his window of time. 

“Hey uh, Dream,” He awkwardly unraveled his arm from Dream. He started regretting his idea the second he missed Dream’s warmth. “I have to do something real quick, I’m going to take us to shore,” Dream nodded and they both moved back to their original positions.  _ Let’s do this quickly,  _ he thought to himself as he started rowing. He didn’t want to leave Dream alone for too long.  _ Or rather,  _ I  _ don’t want to be alone for too long.  _ George shoved away the thought. He was fine. Dream was fine. They didn’t need to cling to one another constantly, they were grown men. The canoe hit the shoreline, jolting them forwards then back in their seats. 

“I’ll be only a few minutes,” George assured him. He grabbed the satchel and quickly walked into the woods to find the teens. George was what he assumed was halfway there when he realized how bad this must have looked. He had just taken the satchel minutes after Dream gave it to him and disappeared into the woods for no reason. That meant two things, that Dream trusted him, which made him feel pride for some odd reason, and that he should probably hurry up. George picked up his pace and ran past the trees, making sure to remember his way back. 

“Tommy! Tubbo!” He called out. “I’ve got the crown, you guys can have it,” He held up the satchel and shook it. George treaded deeper into the trees. 

“Oh hey, George!” Tubbo greeted cheerily and suddenly from his left. George stopped in his tracks. 

“Hey Tubbo, I’ve got your-” he paused. Tubbo was the smart one, he wouldn't just greet George like an old friend. He was the man who had betrayed them days prior.  _ Trap, get out of here. _ His thoughts raced faster than his body could respond.  _ Dream, get to Dream.  _ He spun around just in time to hear Tommy say,

“Lights out, bitch!” before his waking mind was embraced in darkness. 

* * *

The fog rolled thicker onto the shoreline as Dream waited for George to come back.  _ He’s coming back,  _ he assured himself. George wouldn’t have just kissed him and ran. George had such a genuine look of adoration in his eyes that Dream was sure of his feelings. 

_ So why did he run?  _ An apprehensive voice asked in the back of his head. A voice that sounded all too familiar. His mother had told him to not come running back when George left him. See what happens, she had challenged. Now he knew. 

“I don’t care about the stupid crown,” George had told him. Was it all a lie?  _ Would you lie to me, George?  _ Before he could spiral more into his pit of worry and doubt, a figure started to make itself prominent in the fog. Dream let out a sigh of relief. 

“You had me worried for a second, I thought that…”  _ You left me _ . “Something had happened to you,” The figure said nothing and just kept his pace. “George?” The figure started to break apart, revealing itself as two separate people.  _ No, please don't say- _

“Aye bruv,” One of them said. Dream blinked. “You the guy with magic hair? I bet you’d sell for quite a lot in the dark market,”

“What did you do to George,” He asked with a shaky voice while slowly reaching for his axe in his bag. 

“We didn’t do shit!” The same man said. Both figures emerged from the fog, two teens, both brandishing swords. “We gave him a boat in exchange for you and your glow hair” The taller one revealed. Dream grasped the rough wood handle. 

“You’re lying,” Dream glared. He wasn’t going to believe a  _ literal child _ over George. 

“I mean, he’s right there,” The shorter teen said and pointed behind Dream. Despite his better judgment, he turned to look.

_ No. Please.  _

He could make out the figure of a short man, halfway out onto the lake with hands wrapped around the steering wheel of a sailed boat. He held a familiar-looking object in his hand. 

“George?” He croaked out quietly. His hands shook and dropped the axe back into the bag. Dream sank into the canoe. His breath swallowed.  _ Please not again,  _ he begged as he slipped deeper into his own mind. Thorny vines wrapped themselves around his lungs, piercing into him without mercy. He remembered the flowers in the wine bottle that George had given him, still carefully tucked into the side of his bag. George’s rose had found itself in Dream’s chest, growing relentlessly into him.  _ I can't breathe, I can't breathe, Ican’tbreathe,  _ his thoughts melted together into mush and the vines grew around his whole body. He wanted George to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay. 

But George would never hug him again. He shuddered and the thorns pierced into his skin. Dream gasped for air. He clawed at his arms. Dream tucked his face into himself. He could never take off the mask again, not for anyone. He couldn’t do this again. George’s flower tightened itself around him. Petals filled his lungs and he began to cough them out. Each breath hurt like hell. The thorns ripped him apart from all angles. 

“...eam stop!” A voice screamed at him. George’s rose just strangled him tighter.  _ Why isn’t it stopping?  _ It would stop when he was held and comforted.  _ Why isn’t it stopping?!?  _ George would have been able to save him.  _ Let yourself be cared for _ , the thorns whispered to him as a bitter reminder. Dream let out a choked sob.  _ It’s our last few minutes alive and you’re comforting me? _ Dream had asked.  _ Yeah _ . 

Dream screamed into the hidden night that he knew was there, but when he opened his mouth, no screams fell from his lips. Only petals. 

* * *

George woke up on hard stone that morning, a sharp contrast to the only mildly uncomfortable bedroll he had been sleeping on. He stayed there and laid flat on his back. He took a moment to wake himself up. Did he pass out on the streets again? 

_ Dream,  _ the single word broke his fragile waking mind and he shot up. He raced to his feet and looked around wildly. Stone walls, iron bars…  _ I’m in prison,  _ he realized. Last night's events came racing back at him. The perfect kiss on the perfect night, then two insufferable teens to ruin everything. He was mildly annoyed at the Stabbington Brothers before, but he was  _ beyond pissed now.  _ He ran to the bars and yanked on them, hard. It didn’t do anything but it made him feel better. 

Dream would have been able to handle himself just fine if he had the axe out. And was standing on the shore rather than sat in a dinky canoe. And if Dream could see through both the night and the fog. And if Tubbo and Tommy were alone. 

“Hey!” He shouted at a guard down the hall. “What’s my bail? What am I even being charged for?” The next thing he knew, there were two guards cuffing him and dragging him out of the cell. George didn’t resist, he had had his fair share of prisons and knew the drill well enough. Screaming at the guards probably wasn’t a good first mood, but Dream could be bleeding out on a beach somewhere. Or worse. Oh, how many worse things there were. 

George let himself be carried down the hall, taking close note of the prisoners as he walked. He recognized one from a few months ago that he used to play cards with at a pub. He saw the faces of two distraught and familiar teens sitting together in a cell. George furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. Then his vision filled with red. He slammed his head into one of the guards and pushed the other into the wall with his body weight. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, luring out more of his fury. George  took quick steps to the cell. He grabbed the front of Tommy’s bandana and pulled their faces together, smushing the teen against the bars. 

“ _ How did you know about Dream?”  _ He screamed into the boy's face. If George didn’t get answers soon he was going to pummel someone’s face into their skull. 

“I didn’t do shit!” Tommy protested. “It was the old woman! I swear on Tubbo’s life! Actually, I don’t really care about him  _ that  _ much, I swear on my  _ own _ life,”

“Hey!” Tubbo cried out angrily from the opposite end of the cell. 

“Old woman?” His eyebrows narrowed before being dragged back by the guards who had gained back their wits. They forced his head down as they pulled him down the hallway. The guards pulled him into another corridor. George’s eyes darted around the walls, looking for something,  _ anything  _ to use. His eyes caught a particular drawing in the bricks. An all too familiar smiley face stared back at him. 

Then all Hell broke loose. 

Criminals and mercenaries alike broke down the doors from all sides, surrounding both him and the guards. The soldiers tried their pitiful best before being beat over the head with clubs and axes. 

“Fuckin’ run!” A familiar bartender shouted at him, dragging him down the hall. George heard crashes and conflict emerge from behind him, but he didn’t dare look back. Philza pushed him into a courtyard before disappearing back into the fighting. 

“Hey prick,” a certain eight fingered criminal grabbed his collar. George spun around. Wilbur practically threw the reigns of a white mare into his hands. “Save the dream boy for us, yeah?” Wilbur slapped the ass of the horse sending her galloping down the bricks. George screeched helplessly while holding onto Spirit  for dear life. The horse weaved flawlessly in between axes and swords, bringing them both to the gate. 

“ _ Did you bring the whole pub here!?!”  _ George screamed. “ _ How the fuck do you speak English _ ?!?” The horse just neighed in response (of course it just neighed what else did he expect, fully formed English?). “Thanks, I guess?!” He offered as the horse flew across the drawbridge and onto the road out of the capital. Despite himself, George let out a brief laugh at the situation

_ Dream,  _ he reminded himself. 

“Move! Mush!” He called out and the horse picked up speed. Branches flew past his face so quickly he didn’t have time to dodge nor feel them. 

_ I’m coming Dream.  _

* * *

Dream woke up back in his bed. Alone. He stared up at the canopy of his bed. He remembered what had happened last night. He wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe stay that way for a bit. Just long enough to forget, or long enough for his chest to stop hurting. 

His eyes were red and sore from crying, his throat was raw and his arms were covered in scratches he had given himself. Dream sighed and turned to his side. His white mask laid on the nightstand, abandoned. He sat up just enough to reach it and tie it back across his face. The edge of his vision was embraced in the white porcelain. Dream closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep. 

His door was opened and there was no knock. 

_ “ _ Dream?” His mother’s soft voice called. He just buried himself in the sheets. He couldn’t face his mother, not after all of that. She had been right, she had warned him and Dream didn’t care. He had leaped from the tower, he had leaped in George’s  arms, and he fell hard to the ground. Dream just laid there, broken from the fall. 

“Sit up Dream, you’re making a fool of yourself,” His mother urged. Dream let out a choked sob and emerged from the blankets. “Let me fix your hair, you look like a woman,” Dream didn’t have the energy to feel ashamed. He turned his back to her and let her take out the half-dead flowers. 

“What-” He cleared his throat of tears. “What happened last night? How did I get here?” His mother started to undo the braid. 

“Well, I had been following you for a while, I figured the thief would try and pull something,”  _ George, his name is George.  _ “I saw him running with the crown and then the two boys chasing after you with swords. I hit them from behind and had them sent off to prison. Then I brought you and all of your things back,” She explained simply. Dream just nodded as the tension fell away from his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

“For what?” His mother hummed. 

“Leaving the tower, running off with George,” He rubbed his thumb over his opposite wrist. 

“You aren’t lying to me, are you?” She asked gently.  _ You wouldn’t lie to me, would you George?  _ He bit his bottom lip. Did he regret leaving? He thought back on the last few days, their confessions in the cave, their tender moment on the riverside, his birthday in the capital, their perfect night on the water. It was the small things too, how he got to go to bed knowing George would be there in the morning, how he’d felt grass and trees and flowers. No, he didn’t regret leaving. But he didn't know if he regretted George. 

“Of course not,” He assured her. It was his second lie to her, the first being him leaving in the first place. “You were right,” His mother nodded.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” She offered and showed herself out, closing the door behind her. Dream was left with a pile of dying flowers and his thoughts. He might as well deal with them now. He walked over to his bag that rested against his wall. A slightly disoriented Sapnap crawled out. Dream didn’t have the energy to laugh. He reached in and started unpacking. Changes of clothes, the food he hadn’t gotten around to eating, a pot George had boiled water in. He pulled out his list of books he wanted to read, a few broken pieces of chalk, some dead leaves, and slabs of bark. He walked over to his hole in the wall where he had hidden the satchel. Dream faltered for a moment. His mother must know about the hiding place if she found it. He would have to find a new one. 

There was one last item in his bag. Dream’s hands shook as he pulled it out. Lilacs, daisies, and irises. He recognized them now from one of the books he’d read in the capital. And a single, red rose, in the middle of them all. Dream pulled out the wine bottle. He’d have to remember to fill it again soon.  _ Why would I do that?  _ He wondered. He grazed his fingers over the thorns on the rose.  _ How did these little things manage to hurt me so much _ ? It was all in his head. He couldn’t drown at the top of his tower, he couldn’t feel sand in his lungs while he was standing in a forest, and he couldn’t be strangled by thorns on a beach. 

Dream just put the bottle on his nightstand and stepped back. He moved it around and turned it until it felt right. The petals were squashed, the flowers were starting to die and the stupid sun sigil distorted his view of the stems through the glass bottle. Dream wanted to smash the bottle and burn the flowers. But his mother would probably take them anyway, so it didn’t really matter. He pushed aside the half-dead flowers his mother left on his bed before sitting down. 

The paintings on his walls seemed dull. His ceiling covered in paint just seemed cluttered. When he was around 14, he painted  green and gold vines across his ceiling and never changed it. Maybe he should draw over them and put up something new. Dream squinted at the ceiling, young teenage Dream must have been a horrific painter. The vines wrapped around each other with the strangest patterns. He gazed back at the wine bottle, the sun sigil blown into the glass. The ceiling seemed a lot more deliberate now. 

Dream grabbed the bottle before standing on his bed. He ducked out from under the canopy and compared the shapes.  _ Almost identical.  _ He fell back onto the mattress.  _ Why would I paint a sigil that I had never seen before on my ceiling?  _ Maybe he had just seen it before, in one of his books, or… something. There was an explanation. His mother would know. He stood and paused at the door. 

_ Your mom is a liar,  _ George's voice echoed in his head.  _ Do you remember what I said? She lied about the famine, she kept you here for  _ years _ , Dream.  _ Dream grit his teeth. 

“Get out of my head,” 

_ Don’t you miss the grass already? Do you remember sand? And trees? Do you long for them?  _

“I do,” He admitted. 

_ Would your mother have comforted you when you panicked? How many times did I do that? Why would I do that?  _

“I don’t know,” His back slammed against the door and he slid to the ground. 

_ You said it yourself, I did more for you in an hour than she did in a lifetime.  _

“You left me, you only cared about the stupid crown,”  __

_ I don’t care about the stupid crown, _ George had told him. He had let himself be vulnerable and George had taken advantage of him.  _ So why did I kiss you back? Why did I throw it behind me?  _ George’s phantom voice asked.

“I don’t know why you do anything!” He said as loudly as he could without drawing attention from the kitchen. “Why you held me, and kissed me and cared for me,”

_ Why I loved you _ , George added.  _ You should let yourself be cared for.  _

“Fuck you!” He shouted. He gripped his hair and tugged hard at the roots. 

_ Why did you draw the suns Dream? _

“I don’t remember,” He brought his knees up to his chest. 

_ You have to remember. Think, where have you seen them?  _

“The wine bottle, the square, the lanterns,” He had to remember. “On a ceiling, I saw one a long time ago,” 

_ Where? _

“It was warm? And bright, there were people there,” 

_ Who are the people?  _

“I don’t know!” He tightened the grip on his hair. “They had dark hair, they were happy, they were above me,”

_ How old were you?  _ The question gave him pause. 

“I couldn’t have been more than a month old,” He straightened his slouch. “I recognize them, I saw them in the capital,”

_ You did.  _

“The couple from the mural, with the lost prince,”

_ What was the royal family doing with you 21 years ago?  _ George’s voice slowly faded into his own thoughts. He remembered the mural, the crown on the baby’s head that was far too large for him. The crown that matched the one George had. The crown that had fit just right on his head. 

_ Holy shit.  _

He pulled himself to his feet. He ran to the mirror and practically ripped off the mask. He didn’t have time to get disgusted over his appearance. Dream closed his eyes and tried  to summon the memory of the mural, the royals’ faces and shapes. He slowly opened his eyes. 

He had the queen’s freckles and eyes, the king’s shape and height. 

Dream dropped the mask. 

He brought a shaky hand to the doorknob and twisted. 

He didn’t fly down the stairs like he normally would. Instead, he gripped the railing for balance. 

“It’s not quite ready,” A voice shouted from the kitchen.  _ But I am.  _

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you... mother.” He asked coldly. She turned from the stove. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, for 21 years, about the world, about yourself, about me. About George,” Her tender look faltered for just a moment into something cold and hard. 

“Are you alright? Do you need some sleep?” She reached for his face and tried to cup it in her hands.  _ George did that once.  _ He grabbed her wrist. 

“Do you know what you did to me? How _hard_ ,” He twisted slightly causing her to yelp. “It was for me to open up, to be _happy_ , to be loved? Do you know what it’s like to live 21 years, trapped in a goddamn tower, never once touching the grass, never once seeing your parents, never speaking to anyone but,” He pinned her wrist to the counter and grabbed her hair. “The _sadistic_ **_fuck_** that put you in that position in the first place?” He gritted his teeth and raised her head to slam it into the counter. But instead, he just let go. _She can’t hurt me ever again._

He turned from the woman that forced him to hide from imaginary witches and monsters.  _ There’s only one witch here.  _

“Dream!” A familiar voice cried out from his window sill. He turned to run to it. Cold metal grazed his neck.

“Don’t say a word,” She whispered and dragged them away to the storage closet under the stairs. Dream didn’t move while she tied a knot around his hands with gold rope while holding the knife to his throat. 

“Dream, I’m sorry,” George shouted into the empty tower. “I was jumped by these two… thieves I used to work with,” He held onto the sound of George while a rag was shoved into his mouth. His legs were bound together and the witch left him alone to thrash around. 

“Dream?” There was an ear-piercing scream that undoubtedly erupted from George.  _ No, please I can’t lose him again.  _

He rolled to the door and banged on it with his head, screaming through the gag. The door swung open. There was blood on the floor. George laid there in a pool of red. 

“ _ Hem me shave sem!”  _ He muttered through the gag. His bane rolled her eyes and took out the cloth. 

“Let me save him, and I’ll go with you,” he promised. George groaned in protest. “I’ll never run, I’ll let you use my hair whenever you want, I promise. Just let me save him,” He croaked out. The ropes were untied from his legs and he sprinted over to George. 

“Don’t leave me, George, you promised,” he said. “This is going to hurt,” He shoved the discarded rope into George’s mouth. Dream wrapped his hands tightly around the knife embedded in George’s chest and pulled. George screamed and writhed under him as the metal emerged, coated in crimson. 

“You’re going to live George, you said you wouldn’t leave me,” He said, throwing the knife to George’s side. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you George?” 

“I have to let go,” George mumbled under him. 

“No, George don’t let go of yourself,” George let out a wheeze.

“I have to let go of you,” He said. Dream ignored him and brought his head down to George’s chest. Just before he was about to start the song, he felt George move under him. George mumbled something before raising his hand to the back of Dream's head and cutting off his hair with the knife. 

“ _ No!”  _ Both he and the witch next to him cried as one. They both kept screaming, the witch clawed at her face, tripping over her dress. Dream cupped George’s face in his hands and felt hot blood seep into his clothes. The witch stumbled out the window and turned to dust as she fell to the ground. Dream screamed wordlessly as George let out his final breath.

Dream sat there holding George's chest to his. No tears fell from his face. George was warm. Dream shivered. He felt himself slip into the darkness, the panic that would strangle him, but he just held George closer. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave me,” Dream choked out. He took off the fingerless gloves. He ran a hand through George’s messy hair. He glanced at the window. How quickly would he die if he fell?  _ Don’t give up on yourself,  _ George had said. Dream wanted to cry. He wanted to sob into George’s chest and for him to say it was going to be okay. He glanced back at the window sill. 

“I’ve been looking out that window for twenty-one years, dreaming about what it might feel like when those lights rise in the sky,” Dream had said. “What if it isn’t everything I dreamed it would be?” 

“It will be,” George had promised.

“And if it is? Then what?” 

“That’s the good part I guess. You get to find a new dream,” 

He only ever had one dream, to see the lights. His new dream could be to explore the world. To get in a boat and see where it took him. But who would row the boat? Who would scold  him for staying up all night watching out for them? Who would teach him about the flowers and trees? Who would hold him when things got bad in his head? Dream let out a dry sob. He didn’t want to see the world, not alone. 

“George,” He whispered, pulling him close. “Please don’t leave me alone again,” Would he stay there for another three weeks? Not eating, cleaning, anything. Just existing. He wasn’t sure if he could do that either. He fell for this stupid man that broke into his tower, stole what should have been his crown, a guy that was full of snark and wit and confidence. Dream only wanted one thing. He laid George down on the floor. 

He only ever had two dreams. 

He sang over George. The song was normally slow and quiet, it bordered melancholy. But Dream poured himself into the music. He thought of the first step he took out of the tower, the flowers, George holding him while he sank into the darkness. The cave, the capital, and the boat ride. When he took off his mask, the one that had kept them from each other for too long. Dream let the song pour out from his heart, let the love and passion bleed into the words. George wasn’t coming back, but he needed to hear. 

Dream let the tears slide down his face. 

He sang until the sobs broke his singing down into meaningless hums. He let the water cascade down onto George and just hugged himself. He closed his eyes. He hummed for George, even if he couldn’t hear him. George liked his singing. 

“What the fuck?” A very disoriented voice grumbled from under him. Dream’s eyes shot open. George laid on his back under him, very much confused, but very much alive. “Why am I-” Dream threw his arms around George and laughed into his shoulder. 

“It’s you?” He asked while gripping his neck. George laughed under him.

“I think so,” Dream pulled back and held George’s face in his hands like it was the first time. “I thought you said you weren’t going to change your hair color?” Dream wheezed. 

“Yeah, some idiot cut it all off,”

“He sounds horrible,” George grinned. 

“He’s loud and annoying. Clingy too,” George wrapped his hands around Dream’s neck. 

“You should shut him up,” Dream didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned down to bring them some peace and quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA that was a quick update, I need to get a new hobby lmao. One chapter left, it will probably be very fluffy. 
> 
> If I'm not careful I'm going to get attached to this series and try and find a way to continue it. Someone take away my computer.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort, the movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My google doc has 76 pages now I need a new hobby

“George,” Dream looked down at him with pleading eyes. “Can you _please_ just ride her?” George’s eyes widened before a series of laughs burst from his lips. Dream just frowned. _Alright, fine then. How hard can it be?_ He wondered. Dream took a lap around the horse while George collected himself. He tried to remember how the knights in his books would mount their horses. Not from the back he was pretty sure. He looked at Spirit from the back. 

“Oh my god _Dream,_ ” George grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. “You’re going to get kicked in the face,” Dream shook his head. 

“Spirit knows better,” The horse huffed in agreement. George just sighed. 

“You and your goddamn animals,” On cue, Sapnap crawled out of his front pocket. 

“Well if I have to ride the horse, the chameleon can ride you,” Dream said with a grin. Sapnap crawled onto his open palm. George’s eyes widened in fear. 

“No. I am _not_ letting you put a goddamn reptile on my head,” Dream narrowed his eyes. “ _No._ I mean it Dream,”

Dream rode Spirit while Sapnap sat on a grumpy George’s shoulder as they made their way to the capital. After a few hours of traveling, they came across an inn with a few of the royal guards having a drink. George had heroically gotten himself captured and Dream had to explain how he was pretty sure he was the lost prince. One soldier admitted he had a striking resemblance to the queen, another joked about both Dream and the king being freakishly tall. After some tense conversation, the soldiers agreed to pass on a letter or two.

They stayed at the inn for a night accompanied by two guards, one to watch George and make sure he didn’t stab anyone or run away, and another to make sure that the potential lost prince didn’t get himself murdered. An exhausted soldier came in while they were eating breakfast with a sealed letter he offered to Dream. The royal family was skeptical but was willing to give him a shot. They were summoned to the capital. Dream wanted to throw up his breakfast. His hands shook as he handed the letter to George. 

“I’m a wanted man,” George said looking up from the parchment. 

“The royal couple offers a three-day pardon that might be extended if your claims are true,” The soldier explained. “If either of you is lying you will be hung,” Dream drank the rest of his water and set down the glass with a clink. This was going to be a long day. 

Dream’s hands were clamped around Spirit’s reigns so tightly they began to shake. George gave him a comforting look as the drawbridge lowered down to the ground. _What if I’m just lying to myself,_ he thought as Spirit walked across the wooden bridge. _What if I made up some royal fantasy and I’m just some nobody, the child of a crazy person?_ It felt weird to have such disdain for his… the woman who kidnapped him. The woman who stole him from a childhood he would never know, who used him for years, who wanted Dream to suffer. His resolve hardened, but that didn’t stop the pain in his stomach or his grip on the reigns. 

“George, I think it's about to happen again,” Dream’s hands shook. Behind that door were his parents. His _parents._ People who would unconditionally love and care for him. It was _terrifying._ George wrapped Dream into a hug.

“Dream, I promise it will be okay, even if they hate you, even if they aren’t even your parents, I will love you anyway,” George promised. “No matter what happens today, I will be here,” Dream let out a quiet chuckle. “What?”

“You said you love me,” He said. Pressure built up in his throat and behind his eyes. George turned bright pink under his arms. Dream grinned and they broke apart. 

“It's going to be fine Dream,” George assured him. He nodded. 

“It's fine,” he repeated. He put a quivering hand on the door handle. “It’s fine,” he echoed. 

“Do you want some help?” George offered. Dream just shook his head. George took his open hand in his. He had to do this himself. He clenched the handle and opened the door. 

There were two people on the balcony, standing in only half formal wear, the man’s hand embracing the woman’s. 

They turned around. 

Dream froze. 

“...Clay?” The woman whispered, recognition flooding her eyes. George gave him a reassuring squeeze before letting go. She took a few steps towards him. Dream gulped. She looked so… real. So small and vulnerable. He was worried he could break her if they touched. 

She reached out a soft hand to his face and cupped his cheek. Dream stiffened under her touch. _Chubby, clumsy, immature._ He shuddered out a breath. _Let yourself be cared for._ He trusted George’s word more than hers. 

Dream relaxed and melted under her hand, wrapping his arms around her. He choked out a quiet sob into her shoulder when she hugged him back. She squeezed tight around his middle.

“We waited for so long,” She whispered into his ear. Dream felt the guilt build up inside him. It was his fault for not leaving, for taking so long to come. 

“I’m so sorry,” He mumbled. She pulled back from the hug and gripped his arms. 

“I missed you, every single day. I cried, so many times. There were days, weeks when I thought I would never see my son again,” She wiped a tear with her dress sleeve. “But I knew you would come back,”

“I took so long,” He choked on his words. His mother shook her head. 

“We don’t blame you for a second,” She insisted. “I promise,” Dream let out a quiet sigh. Those words meant more to him than she would ever know. His father approached from behind her. He was the first person he’d met who was taller than him. 

“Hello,” He sputtered out. What do you even _say_ to your parents, to the people who you’d been missing for your whole life? “I was raised as Dream, but you can call me whatever you’d like,” His mother let out a quiet cry of anguish, and Dream’s heart broke. _What did you say Dream?!?_ He replayed his words again. 

“We gave you the name Clay, but your mother used to call you Dream. Having a child was always her ‘dream’ and she became infertile shortly after your birth,” His father explained. 

_“_ Oh,” What else had the witch taken from him? Besides his name, his childhood, his parents. She had tried to take him again, tried to take Sapnap ages ago, and had tried to take George. _Speaking of George,_ he looked over his shoulder at his friend. Friend? What were they now? _Not the time,_ he thought and waved him over. He took cautious steps towards them all. 

“This is George,” Dream said, taking his hand. George had gone ghastly pale. “He saved me from the tower I was kept in, brought me to the capital to see the lanterns, and then saved me again. It's a bit of a long story,”

“Hello,” George said in an abnormally high pitched voice. 

“He’s currently wanted,” Dream explained. He took a quick glance at George and had to stop himself from bursting out into laughter. He looked more nervous meeting the royal couple than in all of their near-death experiences over the past few days. George just stood frozen and held out an awkward hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said. His father took it instantly, his hand practically swallowing George’s. 

“Niki, draft me the paperwork for a pardon,” He called out into the castle. 

“On it!” A woman called from inside. His father gave George a small nod and let go of his hand. 

“Thank you for bringing our son back to us, it really means the world,” he offered genuinely. “Ask for anything and it’s yours,” George froze. 

“I… I think the pardon is more than enough,” he said awkwardly. Dream had to giggle. Meeting the people who called for your head the day prior who also happened to be your boyfriend’s parents had to be a trip. 

“No, I insist,” George paused for a second. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course,” his father broke George’s gaze and he instantly looked to Dream with such genuine fear. He just grinned back. His mother let go of his arms. 

“Will you be staying with us?” She asked with hopeful eyes. Dream blinked. 

“If it isn’t too much trouble-”

“You’re my son Clay, you are welcome, expected even to live in this castle forever,” Dream blinked.

“I can’t leave?” He asked quietly. He didn’t think he would be able to live another 21 years trapped under lock and key, even for his mother. 

“Oh god no. You're welcome to come and go as you please, you're the crown prince after all. Usually, the prince inherits the kingdom, but you have a cousin that was expected to inherit if you want to abdicate,” Dream’s head spun. Coming and going as he pleased? Where would he even _go?_ Inheriting a kingdom? “I understand this is probably overwhelming, I can show you your room,” She offered. Dream just nodded. “Is your… friend staying too?”

“George would love to stay,” Dream insisted. George got paler. “Right Georgie?”

“Uh-huh,” he managed. 

“Why are you more nervous meeting my parents than I am?” He asked with a chuckle. His parents joined in. George’s ears turned pink. 

“Are you two…?” His mother left the question unfinished. This time Dream went pink. 

“Only if George…” He stole a glance at the man in question. 

“Of course, but only if you want to,” George offered. 

“Then yeah,” Dream nodded. “We’re… a thing,” the words felt foreign and awkward on his tongue. But thank _god_ George felt the same. His mother smiled. 

“You two are welcome to share a room,” She said. Dream felt his face flush red. He wanted that, of _course,_ he did, but that didn’t mean George would, and that didn’t mean that he would subject George to his midnight screams. 

“Can we talk for a moment?” George asked politely. 

“Of course,” George dragged Dream to the corner of the absurdly large balcony. 

“Hey, this is kind of big, we don't have to do that if you're not comfortable,” George said gently.

“It's not that I’m not comfortable it's just that…” He took a quick breath. “I get like, nightmares? Kind of? I used to wake up screaming. Nightmares of just, starving, or being left alone locked in a closet, or of monsters who just laughed at me,” Dream gulped. “I don’t know, its stupid, but I kinda stopped having them these past few days. Mother used to come from her room and scream at me, like, full on shouting. It didn’t help me get back to sleep,” George wrapped a hug around him while he shuddered out a sob. “She sometimes used to put things in my water to help me sleep. Once I slept for two days straight. I had such horrible nightmares but I couldn’t wake up,” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. “I would have been more careful,” Dream pressed his cheek against George’s, staining his porcelain face with his tears. 

“There's a lot that happened that I haven’t told you,” He admitted. “I will someday, but I don’t think I’m ready to relive all that,” 

“Dream. That is _more_ than okay,” George assured him. “If you want me to stay in the same room as you, I will,” Dream nodded. 

“Yeah, I do. But only if you want to too,”

“Well I mean, yeah, definitely I do,” Dream felt lightheaded. _How is this real?_ “I also don’t want to take anything too quickly,” Dream had to laugh at that. 

“George, it’s been less than a week since we met, patience isn’t exactly our strong suit,” George gave him a small but genuine smile before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“I would have gone for your forehead but you're so _tall_ ,” George said grumpily. 

“While we’re being honest, can we cut back on the teasing a bit? I know you don’t mean it but I don’t _love_ the way I am,” 

“Of course I will, but I don’t understand why you don’t love the way you are. I mean, _I_ do,” Dream felt his face flush. 

“You _do_ understand, you just wanted to say that,” George grinned. 

“Maybe. Do you want to head back now?” Dream wiped off another tear from his face. 

“Yeah, let's do that,”

* * *

Almost a month later, Dream took George out of the city on horseback to a quiet place under a pair of oak trees that were just days away from dropping their yellow leaves. George grinned at Dream’s look of determination, determined to give them the perfect day out. The last month had been hard on both of them, especially Dream. They both had to get used to city life, for George it was staying in one place, for Dream, leaving the castle. Dream had woken up twice screaming, both times dragging the poor guards from their posts. Not only did they both have an _absurd_ amount of protection everywhere they went, but there were even guards on their balcony. It bothered both of them quite a bit, George because he was used to getting a shot of adrenaline and fear each time he saw the gold helmets, and Dream because he was still learning how to adjust to a world with hundreds of people in it. 

Dream had managed to sneak them out alone for the first time, dragging George to this quiet spot. Only them, their horses, and the goddamned lizard. Sapnap crawled out of his small pouch sewn onto the side of Dream’s saddle and gave George a knowing look before licking his scally face. George rolled his eyes. 

“Third wheeling much?” Dream asked George jokingly while dragging their packs off the horses. 

“Yeah, I’m jealous of _Sapnap,_ the _lizard_ ,” George helped Dream unpack with occasional side eyes to the chameleon.

“Sapnap is so much more affectionate,” Dream grinned as he rolled out their blanket. George narrowed his eyes. 

“Is that a challenge?” Dream gave him a cocky smile as he stood up. George pressed his lips against Dream’s, hard. He tasted like the sun. They stood there for a few moments, George ran a hand into Dream’s brown hair and pushed his head down. Dream retaliated by running his fingers through _George’s_ hair and pulling them closer. Dream pulled his head up and forced George to stand on his toes. George was about to stubbornly turn away, but Dream gently bit his bottom lip, causing him to gasp quietly. Dream only took that as encouragement and kept going. 

Sapnap let out a few squeaks from behind them. He tried to ignore the lizard but he started to kill the mood with his stubborn protests. George broke apart angrily. 

“I’m going to murder him,” he vowed forcing Dream to hold him back with his larger form in between wheezes. Eventually, George let Dream drag him back to their bags and they finished setting up the picnic. They ate food prepared by the kitchen cooks, deviled eggs, some fancy meat he didn’t recognize, mushrooms that George had no idea what went into them but thoroughly enjoyed anyways, and a thin but tall bottle of the castle’s best wine. They chatted quietly about the food, themselves, their days, the most mundane things possible, but they meant the world to George. Dream always had a bright glimmer of hope in his eyes whenever he talked about the things he cared about. 

At the end of it, George moved to clean everything up but Dream pinned his wrist to the blanket. George’s face flushed red. Dream let go quickly and poured the rest of the wine into the grass. 

“ _Dream_ !” George screamed trying to pull the bottle away. “That one bottle is worth more than even _me_ ,” Dream rolled his eyes.

“George, you are worth a lot more than a bottle of wine, that's the _point,_ ” Dream shook his head. “Lie down,” He ordered. 

“What?”

“Lie down on the blanket, or the grass, it doesn’t really matter. I’ll be back in a second,” 

“Okay, _Prince_ _Clay,”_ George sighed. _Goddamn princes think they’re in charge._ He had to laugh at himself. _Royal pain in my arse._ He laid back onto the blanket and popped a grape into his mouth, chewing carefully. It had been a _long_ month, he was exhausted. But it was also the best time he had had in _years_. 

Dream always made things interesting, spending a whole day with George trying to find the fastest ways around the castle, then promptly losing his mind when he discovered the secret passageways. 

Talking to prisoners for a week because he had the logic that if George was a criminal and was okay, then the other prisoners must be _great._ Most of them hated his guts, but a few Dream managed to win over. Eventually, Dream got attached to Tommy and Tubbo, managing to get them on probation and released from the dungeons. 

Dream found the castle gardens less than a few days after their arrival and made the well-informed decision to spend hours on end painting every flower, every bush, every tree. He gave them out to the castle staff at no charge, half of them selling them for absurd prices. 

He spent a week stuck in the library, reading as many books as he could, crying at some love stories and tragedies, laughing at this comedy or that, George quietly flipping through books next to him. 

Dream hired one of the blacksmiths in the village to make him an axe he had made blueprints of, based on some story he read as a kid. It had cost a fortune, but Dream eventually got the axe he named _Nightmare._ He hired odd mercenaries and soldiers to teach him how to wield it, learned surprisingly quickly. He wasn’t bad, his height and build helped a lot. 

If there was one thing Dream was good at, it was making himself busy. 

“I’m back!” Dream said from his side. George sat up on the blanket and blinked. Dream held a handful of flowers, all individually picked out and pruned. He grinned and laid them across the blanket. He picked up the empty wine bottle and placed it upright on the grass next to them before filling it up with his water skin. George rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. 

“This is so-”

“Stupid?” Dream offer nervously. “Ridiculous? Weird?” 

“I was going to say _thoughtful_ and _cute_ ,” George filled in and took the flowers. 

“This one is a tulip,” Dream picked up a brown one then put it in the bottle. “It stands for love and confidence, this one is a lily, it’s yellow,” Dream clarified while putting it too in the bottle. “It signifies gratitude, this one is a sunflower-”

“That is definitely _not_ a sunflower,” George said with a laugh. “Sunflowers are like, six feet tall,” Dream muttered something under his breath. 

“Okay fine, a mini sunflower that was _supposed_ to symbolize adoration and loyalty,” Dream admitted before pushing it in next to the others. George couldn’t stop smiling as Dream picked up more flowers, putting them gently into the bottle while explaining their meaning. He wanted to hug Dream and plant kisses all over his cheeks and squeeze around his neck. He felt the water hit his hands before he realized he was crying. Dream stopped immediately. 

“Oh my god, George I’m so sorry,” Dream wrapped him into a hug while he cried. “I wouldn’t have-”

“You’re just so-” He hiccuped. “You're so goddamn _sweet_ Dream,” Dream let out a laugh into his hair.

“My deepest apologies, next time I’ll take you to a bar full of dangerous criminals who all want to kill me,” A laugh broke through his sobs. 

A year after Dream arrived in the capital, it was his birthday again. The royal couple decided to still have the sun festival and release the lanterns, but this time as a celebration of the prince coming home. It was somehow even bigger of an event than last year, the city folk putting all of their efforts into making it perfect. Dream had become quite the celebrity. The people _loved_ him, his kindness, and his empathy. Soon word of the lost prince returning after over two decades spread to the other kingdoms. One of the kings, Technoblade heard of his prowess with the axe and challenged Dream to a duel. Dream won four, while King Technoblade won six, but George was still pretty proud of him considering he had only picked up the axe a year ago. Dream however vowed to beat him the year after and began training even harder. George didn’t mind his arrogance, it meant he was _healing,_ finally gaining some confidence. he would have to keep that in check, the last thing he needed was Dream to get too cocky

He whittled a bow for Dream’s birthday, it was poorly made, but he had the captain of the guards fix some of the worse off parts. George had it enchanted by one of the clerics in the capital, it would supposedly take ages to break, shoot flaming arrows without needing to be lit, and never run out of arrows. He offered it to Dream who was more than delighted and named it _Nightmare_ because somehow one overpower weapon named _Nightmare_ wasn’t enough. 

Dream released three lanterns that year, one with his parents, one with a group of children that followed him around like he was the pied piper, and one with George. George had tried his best to sew their names into a lantern with thin string but just ended up breaking so many he just asked the seamstress to

do it for him. When Dream saw it, he just laughed before showing him a similar gift, a lantern with a G on one side and a D on the other. They released each other's lanterns, watching them float away into the dark unknown. Well, before Dream pulled George up to him, kissing under the glowing sky. 

It was two years and a few months when George called in his favor from the king. With very shaky hands and some tough interrogation from the king, he heeded George’s request. He floated for the rest of the day. He talked to what felt like half the city and asked them to spread the word. That night, he forced Dream to clear his schedule, no visits with the common folk, no more classes, no more practicing with _Nightmare_ , just them. He took Dream down to the docks, and just grinned while Dream wheezed at the sight of a very familiar canoe, covered in flowers. 

George rowed them out onto the water, keeping with tradition while Dream petted at the petals of the flowers. He pulled out two lanterns. He lit them and offered one to Dream. 

“Very fancy George,” Dream commented. 

“I’m a fancy man,” George said. 

“Uh-huh,” Dream said simply. “It’s not even close to my birthday, so is there a reason for this or…?”

“Do you want to go first?” George asked, ignoring his question. 

“Let’s do it together,” They pushed up the lanterns in harmony, together into the sky. _Please don’t let me down_ , he prayed while looking towards the shore. Then he saw the first lantern. A single light, then two, then four, and then too many to count. Dream watched in quiet awe as practically the entire capital lit up and lanterns floated into the night sky, drifting across the lake. George grabbed from behind him a small box that could have fit just a pair of shoes and nothing more.

“Dream, I’ve known you for over two years, and somehow it still doesn’t feel like enough,” Dream looked up at him in surprise. “We both found each other in really hard times in our lives, even though we might not have known it then. We were both so alone. We taught each other how to love, and how to _be_ loved. I know it might seem to you that I saved you from that tower, from the awful woman who put you in there, but you really saved me. I was becoming more selfish, less empathetic, less human,” Dream let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Irises,” He said simply. “You think you’re so subtle,” He held up one of the many blue flowers that laced the edges of the boat. Dream tucked it behind George’s ear. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” George huffed. 

“Irises, meaning royalty, faith,” Dream raised an eyebrow. “Only one of us is royalty George, so why is it on a boat for the both of us?” They both already knew the answer. George pulled the lid off the box, orchid and rose petals floating softly out onto the wood bottom of the boat. 

“Dream,” he brushed off a few of the petals, revealing a thick golden ring on a soft cushion of velvet. “Would you marry me?” Dream seemed to think about it for a minute. 

“No thanks,” George's face fell. “I’m _kidding,_ of course, I will, what took you so long,” He laughed briefly before Dream pushed their lips together. They were a lot more experienced, a lot less messy and clumsy than the first time. They knew what the other liked, and how to make it count. George cupped Dream’s cheek with his hand, putting his arm around his neck, Dream pushing a hand into his hair and biting down gently onto his lip. 

They sat there, back under the glowing sky, lights bubbling up in their chests while equally real ones floated around them like stars. 

The wedding was nearly as good, the whole kingdom rejoiced to see their favorite prince and his lover finally tie the knot. The entire capital was covered in decorations and anyone who could fit in the city was welcome. George hired Wilbur, the man from the Snuggly Duckling to come play their music. He had stopped his petty thefts long ago and had taken up both guitar and singing. He had two wood fingers that George had no clue how he made do with, but he wasn’t there to judge. He also invited Philza for taking pity on them in the pub. Dream invited both Tommy and Tubbo, one of whom had stopped stealing and become an apprentice at an apiary, the other who supposedly gave up stealing, but magically found valuable jewels and weapons lying around. 

The king and queen had naturally invited the royals from the other kingdoms to come also. Technoblade challenged Dream to yet another series of duels, this time Dream won seven out of the eleven, much better than last time. Tommy and Tubbo had tried making fun of the foreign king before Wilbur physically restrained them on Dream’s orders. The kids inevitably escaped, somehow, someway becoming friends with the king with a pig mask. Wilbur was dragged along and eventually begged Philza for help, being one of the only other people he knew there. 

George had just laughed and accepted gifts from the aristocracy with Dream. Overpowered armor for them both, a new enchanted shield for Dream, some goggles for George that would supposedly help him with his color problem, a mask for Dream that he politely accepted but would never wear. A music disc from Tommy that he had won in a game of cards and a song from Wilbur. Tubbo offered a gift for Sapnap (who would probably not be getting a weapon anytime soon), a jar of insects and fruit. Technoblade offered an enchanted apple that he had won in a war ages ago that would supposedly make him stronger and fire-resistant (which George was more than a little skeptical about). A steed for George (everyone knew Dream’s attachment to Spirit), foreign and expensive paints for Dream, and the final gift from the king and queen. 

To George, they offered a crown, lavish and expensive enough to match Dream’s. To Dream, they offered a scepter that would be used during his eventual coronation. As a gift to them both, they offered a carriage, laden with gold and jewels, expensive and bright enough to make George's eyes water. They happily accepted all of the gifts before Dream ordered Wilbur and the rest of the musicians to play them some tunes. 

They danced together in the square where Dream had once drawn a mural of the royal sigil, his symbol, _their_ symbol now. George grinned at the thought of it. Never did he ever think three years ago he would be dancing with the most beautiful man in the world, who happened to be a prince after breaking into his home with _his_ stolen crown. 

* * *

Never in Dream’s life did he think he would be holding in his arms the most beautiful man in the world, dancing surrounded by people that thought he deserved to be loved. That _did_ love him. His _family._ He loved all of them, Wilbur and Techno and Phil, Tommy and Tubbo, his mother and father, and the man that changed his life for the better. He was so scared and alone in the tower, holding onto the idea that just one person loved him. His ‘mother’. He was right about something, Dream only needed to love one person, though there was nothing wrong with loving more. He looked down at George’s wearing _their_ sigil, the sun sewn onto his breast with golden string. He put his head on top of George's and closed his eyes, trying to pause time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a loonngg epilogue and was more like act four. Oops.  
> OOOOhhh my god am I tired. Thank you to anyone who read this far and to anyone who gave kudos, commented, or just had a good time.  
> If I ever manage to find a way to continue this nonsense, I'll let yall know, so don't un-subscribe! A sequel, a prequel, and AU, I dunno but I don't know if I'm ready to let this go yet. We'll see :)  
> It is very late and I have school in the morning, so I am going to go to bed, let me know if you guys liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to have three parts and an epilogue. When will it be updated? Good question! I have no clue.


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